


The Return of the Queen

by Prisioux



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Complicated Relationships, Cultural References, Daenerys Resurrection Week, F/M, Friendship/Love, Marriage, Oral Sex, Pro Daenerys, Rare Pairings, Reincarnation?, Resurrection, Vaginal Sex, dont like dont read, modern girl in westeros, openly sexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 98,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisioux/pseuds/Prisioux
Summary: Life and Death are but small details for someone with the responsibilities and ambitions of Daenerys Targaryen.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/Aurane Waters, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Val
Comments: 319
Kudos: 219





	1. I am still here

**Author's Note:**

> Answer to Daenerys resurrection week- prompt AU Resurrection.
> 
> This will be a longer fic and will be posted throughout months. It is more serious than what I normally do, but there is humour too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments from butthurt, tag nazis, fake jonerys lovers that are demeaning, use low language, are insulting or open the door for harassment will be deleted without answer.

Ser Barristan Selmy, used as he was to stand tall and proud behind the monarch, was now occupying a place of honour by her right side, sitting on a stone bench two steps down from where her throne- a simple wooden carved chair with the three heads of the dragon visible enough for the people on the back to recognize- while the little scribe Missandei sat at her left, three steps down, the three of them surrounded by Unsullied guards.

It was the first time since the return of Her Grace that she was receiving supplicants and the heat was near unbearable. 

Privately, Ser Barristan thought that conducting such an important first meeting before everyone´s eyes was a queer idea. The supplicants were mostly men from Westeros that had arrived in the last ten days, some even during the battle, and in his estimation, this was a bad sign. 

It most probably meant that things have only gotten worse at his homeland... 

Ser Barristan had heard some tidbits of information. Less than he wanted to. But his days had been full, both work and rest, for he was still recovering from his wounds. There had been no time, truly, no time for this meeting- until now.

he looked at faces with a mix of disquiet and disgust. Nobles, bastards, outcasts- men with selfish ambitions and secret agendas, hoping somehow to gain the allegiance of the Dragon Queen, all eager to make profits, better their social standing or even, to avenge grave offenses. 

All of them under a single roof on a foreigner land, forced to behave according to a woman´s directives, to stay put and wait for their turns, speak only when spoken to...

This was a recipe to disaster

***

To Ser Barristan´s astonishment, the first one to be called by Daenerys Targaryen was no other than Tyrion Lannister.

***

“Lord Tyrion, please, be so kind as to share with us why you chose to come to Meereen and what do you wish to accomplish by paying me...such an  _ unexpected _ visit.”

Ser Barristan watched Daenerys Targaryen carefully as she listened to the former Hand of the King.

The tale was long, but she allowed the dwarf to speak freely and uninterrupted. It was obvious to anyone in attendance that Lord Tyrion appreciated the attention- his pleasure in hearing his own voice was clear. 

But the picture painted by the youngest of Lord Tywin´s children was daunting. 

The last bit of information though…

***

“You say Aegon, the son of my brother Rhaegar, is alive. Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers, and Illyrio Mopatis, my host at Pentos, are supporting his claim. Instead of coming to Meereen and asking for my hand, Aegon went to Westeros to fight for the Throne- with the Golden Company no less. Did I understand correctly, my Lord Tyrion?”

The summary was given in a tired, almost bored tone, not what Lord Tyrion expected from a dragon for what Ser Barristan could see from his bench. 

Her Grace turned to the dornish nobles at assembly- the ones she had convinced to stay in Meereen, promising to escort them and the body of their prince to Dorne- and asked, in a more alert voice: “ Tell me truly: if Prince Doran had known his nephew had escaped alive from King's Landing, would he be so reckless as to share the information unwisely? Would he be capable of delivering the boy to the Usurper, the King he had sworn to obey at the time, as the law commanded?”

Ser Gerry Drinkwater was the one to speak for the group: “ No, Your Grace. Everyone in the Seven kingdoms knows Prince Doran as an intelligent man. He would not be a fool and speak more than it was wise- nor he would betray the memory of his late sister.”

Daenerys then turned to Lord Tyrion, placidly resuming the conversation. “ You see, Lord Tyrion? Aegon, the son of my brother, died by the orders of your Lord Father. Either Lord Varys is lying about rescuing the babe and is in cohorts with Illyrio for personal gain, or he is a clumsy spymaster incapable of passing along sensitive information in secrecy. This story you told us, is a lie. From beginning to end, a lie- and I start to doubt your fame as a well-learned man, for you failed to see the truth that was before your eyes. “

“Ser Barristan, you know the history of my House better than myself. Could you please remind Lord Tyrion of the private life of the first Blackfyre, Lord Daemon? Who he wished to wed and who he ended up wed to?”

The old knight understood at once where his Queen was going and was just happy to oblige. “ Daemon Waters believed the hand of the Princess Daenerys should have been his; he married a noble from Tyrosh, the mother of his children.”

Now finally more animated than ever, Queen Daenerys addressed her supplicant again: “Lord Tyrion, do you follow? You have not met my nephew.  _ You met my distant cousin. _ ”

For mayhaps the first time in his whole life, Tyrion Lannister was speechless- it all made sense in retrospect.  _ The blue hair, the claim his mother was Tyrosh, the support of the Golden Company _ …

“The Blackfyre male line died out and Ser Barristan was the one responsible for it, but of the female line, nobody knows. If I am correct and this Aegon is the son of a daughter of a cousin of mine and not some lyseni boy they bought and raised as a prince in exile, they would still have the sword. Have you, Lord Tyrion, perchance heard anything about the sword?”

This question seemingly loosened the dwarf´s tongue and Tyrion Lannister was obviously set at making the most of the opportunity. “ Absolutely right, Your Grace. Everything is clear now- we are speaking of another false claimant. Unfortunately, my Valyrian was a bit rusty at the time of my stay at Illyrio's manse, but I overheard a conversation yes, regarding a sword- an important sword- to be given to the lad. I had honestly not thought about Blackfyre…”

Her Grace interrupted the dwarf for the first time “...not even when you met with the Golden Company? well, this is water under the bridge as they say. What we do from now on is another matter. Thank you for your time, Lord Tyrion. You will be granted accommodation at the Pyramid while I meet privately with my advisors. You will be summoned if additional information is needed. You may go now, Lord Tyrion. “

Ser Barristan saw the agitation in the face of the small man. Lord Tyrion Lannister, the old knight had been informed, had been sold into slavery during his journey. This time as the property of another man, however, had not taught Tyrion to behave any less than the lordling he had been raised to be.

He loudly protested his dismissal:

“Your Grace, with all due respect, I could be of more use to you. I was the Hand of the King. I know the dealings of my family. Targaryen or Blackfyre, Aegon is just a boy playing at war and the Golden Company is not enough to counter the might of my House. My sister and their allies are the true danger to your claim.”

“ Lord Tyrion “ the queen began in a slightly irritated tone. “ While you indeed provided us with relevant information, you are not the only one. The day has so many hours, and I wish to hear others. Luckily for you, I will take no offense at your bad manners. “

And with a wave of her hands, Lord Tyrion Lannister was shown the door. 

***

Ser Jorah Mormont was the next; the old knight watched as Her Grace Daenerys admonished her former guard for his lack of remorse about being a slaver before, berated him on the terrible decision of kidnapping Lord Tyrion Lannister as ways to get back to her good graces, deplored his past behavior and unwanted liberties when at her service and bitterly complained about Mormont´s tendency of unwillingly cooperate with her other advisors.

Then Daenerys Targaryen granted Ser Jorah Mormont a full pardon, welcomed him back as her guard and urged him not to fail her again.

***

Among the last figures to be heard that day was the pirate named Aurane Waters. Ser Barristan was very apprehensive about this moment, for the bastard of House Velaryon was a fine-looking man, and Daenerys, unattached. 

Ser Barristan shook his head. He had breathed in relief when news came that Daario Naharis had been killed and Daenerys reacted with obvious sadness, but not distress. She organized a collective funeral for the fallen, where she also burned the body of Maester Aemon Targaryen, recently brought to her by a Maester named Marwyn, said some words about Daario- his bravery, his loyalty- and once the whole thing was over, never spoke of him again.

Nor would she speak of her late second husband, Hizzdar, just commenting that the meereenese nobleman had “ died as he lived- cowardly.”

She had changed, Ser Barristan observed. Whatever happened to Daenerys in that desert had made her stronger, harsher, truer to herself. She was Queen and placed the well being of her subjects, her responsibilities as a ruler and her ambitions as a monarch before the whims of her heart, but still, Srr Barristan worried.

She was a young girl after all.

***

Aurane Waters was, at least, a member of a House that had long ties to the Targaryens-  If they were to welcome a pirate, better the son of Lord Velaryon.

_ Thank the Seven the Iron Fool is gone. _ It was a small mercy: Victarion Greyjoy had died before laying eyes on Daenerys, burnt to crisps by the cream and yellow dragon who, in the words of the Queen “ took offense at the attempt of being bound by force and eliminated his would-be master at once.”

***

“ Please, Lord Aurane Waters, state the purpose of your stay in Meereen and the reason behind your appearance at my Court today.”

The bastard bowed in the way of Old Valyria, acknowledging not only the Queen, but also the dragons depicted in her sigil three times. 

“ I just wish to serve you, Your Grace” 

The detail clearly impressed Daenerys, who was now smiling. 

“ Like you served your last Queen, my Lord? The one you stole your ships?”

Ser Barristan had to give the bastard credit- Aurane did not even flinch at the tirade. 

“ She was no true Queen, Your Grace. She was my enemy, as she is yours. My beloved Lord Father died because he did not wish to serve her bastards- a gruesome death, not a valiant one. I bent the knee yes, to avoid execution. My father had already died and I did not want the same fate. When she showed herself to be a fool, I simply took advantage. “

“So, do you want revenge, my Lord? Against the Lannisters? Why are you here, my Lord?”

“As I said, I am here to serve you. Avenging my father would bring me great joy I agree, but not him back. Serving you, the last scion of House Targaryen, is honoring my House, Your Grace. If you wish to bring Fire and Blood to the Lannisters, I will follow you; if you wish to forge a new Kingdom in Essos, I will stay.”

It did not take long for Daenerys to accept the pledge and Ser Barristan could hardly blame the rationale behind the decision: they needed warships, Aurane had warships and it was a done deal.

Once the Court was over and his fears had proven to be unfounded, Ser Barristan returned to his chambers, had his manservant change his bandages, and fell asleep as soon as his head touched his bed.

***

She could not explain how it happened, but it happened nevertheless.

She had died.

Daenerys Targaryen had died at the Dothraki Sea, with the voice of Quaith in her head, only to wake up, as another person, in another world, where she was considered to be nothing more than the creation of a fantasy author.

It helped that she had been a baby, that she had grown up well and adjusted in a poor, but loving family and mostly, that she had no idea of who she had been before.

Only once she returned to her body - restored, resurrected- Daenerys _ remembered. _

_ *** _

There was no time to despair, no room to second guess herself. 

Daenerys had died and returned for a reason. She had been sent to this other world, where there were wars and injustice, yes, but also many capable people working to make things better rather than worse, and not only for personal profit, but also out of idealism.

Not only that, but she had learned versions of her own story, like previews of what could happen if she was not careful, and she was determined to not commit the same mistakes this time around.

_ The battle at Meereen...the timeline...I can change it- I can change it. _

No time to lose, Daenerys told to herself. 

Drogon offered her his wing and she readily climbed her dragon.

Why wait until the khalasar could find her? Why not find the Khalasar herself? 

Dothraki followed strength and no one was stronger than a dragon rider with a purpose.

***

Uniting all the khalasars under her command had been simple, effective and gruesome.

Daenerys, having lived a second life where she did not need to use violence to survive, found war inevitable, but unappealing. 

She would not hesitate, however, in attacking her enemies because they would not hesitate in attacking _her._

She had three dragons, more than a claim to the Iron Throne, she led the Dothraki and she conquered the great nation of Meereen.

She would never be allowed to live in peace.

Not really having a choice made things much, _much_ easier. Daenerys' priority was to continue to liberate slaves. The economy of Essos would fall in disarray and it would be _their_ damn fault: slavery was evil, Braavos thrived without it, so it was obvious it would be a matter of effort and time, not an impossible task as some would want to believe. 

Slavery was just a mode of production. Nothing more, nothing less. It was not part of a culture, or a culture in itself. Local Gods would not punish Daenerys for being the spark of a revolution because slavery was not something Gods, if they existed, had created. Slavery was created by human beings and human beings had also created excuses to justify it and protective systems around it to guarantee they could go on, undisturbed and unpunished, and profit from other´s suffering.

She would kill evil men because killing them was also killing the _idea_ and showing others how this idea would get them killed.

Besides, humans are nothing if not adaptable. 

Essos would do just fine-  _ better _ \- without a hindrance such a slavery.

***

After the battle was won, there came the peace negotiations.

To be fair, nobody could call what happened negotiations. 

Daenerys had dragons; her enemies, not.

But men have pride and they have to, at least, try to salvage some of it, even after seeing their whole world literally burn down. 

Wise Master Grazdan mo Eraz, the one with the ridiculous unicorn haircut, heard in silence the litany of Daenerys demands, and, perhaps under the impression he had a choice in the matter, asked for word and calmly said :

“ Let us not speak so harshly, Your Grace. There must be another way- one less damaging to all of us.”

Lazily, Daenerys pointed to the skies, where her dragons could still be seen. "There is only one way, Master mo Eraz. _My way_. I say jump, you ask how high. You do that, or I will bathe in the blood of your next son.”

Grazdan had a large, white smile, but that perfect mouth was used on spreading lies. Lies about Daenerys, false stories that painted her like a bloodthirsty maniac came from the depths of the seven hells. 

Daenerys vaguely remembered that passage- she probably mixed several of the most atrocious rumors Grazdan had come up with, but she was happy to notice the man flinching.

It did the trick.

Slaver's Bay was no more.

***

That night, word came that a ship from Westeros docked.

Ser Barristan was on the mend, but there was still enough to be done. Daenerys had just reached an agreement with the Dornish, who had returned from some errand the old Knight had sent them and it was avoiding speaking to Ser Jorah and Tyrion Lannister not for fear of what she might hear- she knew what she would hear- but simply to teach them both a lesson.

Daenerys also got reacquainted with her female servants and thanked the gods they were far better than their literary counterparts. Jhiqui and Irri, who were basically interchangeable in the books, were actually quite different from each other.

Irri was a flirt- Daenerys could see how the former slave had been so nonplussed about the whole “ giving a hand” passage. Jhiqui, on the other hand, was dutiful, a woman of few words. As soon as they arrived at the Pyramid, Daenerys gave them better accommodation and asked if they wanted to perhaps change occupation- she was Queen, yes, but the idea of having two handmaidens at her disposal twenty-four hours a day was a bit too much.

They both declined.

But the best discovery, however, was Missandei. She was not as young as described. A prodigy, yes, but only a year younger than Daenerys, and did not refer to herself as " this little one".

“Are you certain, Your Grace, you wish to see the strange man from your home? The hour is late.”

In all honesty, Daenerys body was begging for rest- but there was work to be done and better now than later. 

“ This will not take long, dear friend; let him in.”

***

As she had expected, the visitor was Marwyn, the Mage.

The conversation was brief. Marwyn was welcomed into Daenerys' household and granted a place at the Pyramid.

The Maester versed in the mysteries would be of great use to Daenerys, but not at the present time- now, she had a funeral to organize.

***

He called himself “ Lord of the Waters” and was living a life of adventure and excitement, captaining the warships he had stolen from the whore queen, a rich pirate active at the Stepstones.

But secretly, Aurane Waters wanted  _ more. _

Any member of House Velaryon learned to sail before walking. His late father had taught him well, but life at the seas could be... _lonely_. 

Men do need soft hands sometimes, and after a couple of successful months, Aurane decided to visit Lys and its pillow houses.

It was there that he heard of the Dragon Queen. 

Daenerys was her name. The Princess in Exile- the woman whose claim his father would surely support.

Normally, Aurane was not guided by ideals, but this case was different. He could afford the trip to Meereen. He wanted to see with his own eyes if the tales were merely exaggerations, or if it was all true.

If it was all true, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining her cause before Daenerys sailed to Westeros.

***

On his way, Aurane encountered some... unexpected problems.

The woman they called Mother of Dragons more than disliked slavery- she hated it with a passion only Targaryens could muster. 

When Aurane came upon, by accident, a ship carrying slaves, he found himself in a conundrum.

At the end, he decided the best course of action was to kill the crew, free the cargo and have them join his small fleet as freedmen.

***

Luckily for him, the detour, which cost some days, resulted in Aurane arriving after the battle had been fought and won. 

The destruction could be seen and smelled by miles. Aurane had fought many battles before, so the sight was not distressing to him. He was far more interested- fascinated even- by the contours of the Pyramids and the strong colors of the skies…

It was then that he realized, with awe, those colors were actually dragons flying right above his head.

But the third vision, of a young woman dressed in white silks, her silver hair dancing in the winds, lightning up a pyre in the way of the old dragonlords, was the one that made Aurane Waters lose his breath and experience something akin to a religious trance that day

He knew then he made the best decision of his entire life when he changed courses and sailed to Meereen- and this realization scared Aurane more than anything in the world.

***

After the funeral, Daenerys was, understandably, emotionally exhausted. 

There were many emotions inside of her she could barely understand. Intellectually, Daenerys knew about the vows Maester Aemon took, but despite this knowledge, there was a part of her that resented the old man. Why had he not come to her sooner, when she needed him? 

She knew the answer and, in honesty, this resentment was subdued and not painful, as if it had happened to someone other than herself which was, in sense, accurate.

But it was there- hidden, semi-dormant, silent.

the fear of rejection, the need to be loved.

The next meeting, however, could not wait.

” A long time ago I met one of your former students.” Daenerys started without preamble. “ Unfortunately, she led me to believe my husband could be saved. She used some sort of Dark Magic and caused not only my son to die, but possibly affected my ability to bear a child- I want you to help me.”

The discussion made Ser Barristan uneasy. Daenerys could not blame him, but Marwyn wanted details and she was, if not happy to oblige, willing.

After a quarter of an hour, the Archmaester came to a conclusion:

“ The curse was not aimed at you or your child. It was an accident, a byproduct of the ceremony. As such, it is not as strong as it could have been. Magic is will.”

“So, whatever it was, it can be lifted?” Daenerys asked, half sure if there was even a curse to begin with. Losing a child so late in a pregnancy could have a long effect on her body. She had learned enough about health in her second life to know that it was normal for women to not have periods for months, sometimes a full year after giving birth, so perhaps it was what had been affecting her rather than a curse. 

Not to mention that the stressful life she led, the constant changes in diet and routine, the fact that she was still a teenager... all of that should be playing a role on her reproductive functions.

“I would say yes, Your Grace, but we need more time to...observe how you progress from now on.”

This was fine with Daenerys. Never trust an advisor that says only _yes_ and never _but_ ….

“Good. Now there is another issue I want to speak with you. And is not regarding what is happening beyond the wall. Not that I do not believe you. I do. I know the enemy is the Cold. However, I fear Westeros will face more threats than the ones North the wall. When we return, I need you to re-enter The Citadel. We need to prepare. Years of war, failed crops, impending winter...fertile ground for plagues and illnesses. “

***

The meeting continued without the presence of Marwyn, who was instructed to assist the native healers at the barracks.

“Lord Tyrion Lannister and Ser Jorah Mormont are eager for an audience, Your Grace.”

Ser Barristan cared little for Lord Tyrion Lannister and even less for Ser Jorah, but it was his job to advise the Queen, so he did.

“ If it is your wish, Your Grace could very well put them both on trial, although I would recommend you listened to what they have to say first.”

“And I will meet them, Ser Barristan- only not now.”

The old knight had another issue he wished to discuss with his Queen. 

“ On the matter previously discussed with the Maester, Your Grace, now that you are twice-widowed...mayhaps the allegiance with Dorne could still be evoked? Prince Doran has another son…”

Daenerys took a deep breath and tried not to overthink the situation. She was not living the life of a nobody in a world of mostly equal opportunities. She was a Queen, a military Commander, a woman of great fortune and even greater power.

Her Love life was a matter of State.

She had no idea what was happening up North. She had no inclination towards that land or its inhabitants. She knew eventually she would have to go there, but any possible foreshadowing for this great love story had been lost in translation since she had been transported from the world she existed as a person to the world she existed as a character and then back.

Daenerys vaguely remembered her life before her resurrection. She knew the appeal of the sensitive, but oh so complicated guy with a fear of commitment and self esteem problems had been lost to her since she reached adulthood.

She just did not want it, she supposed?

***

If it was meant to happen, it would happen. Let it be by love or by duty, if Daenerys destiny included Jon Snow, regardless of her personal preferences, she would marry him. 

In times like these, Daenerys felt helpless. 

She had three dragons and vast armies, but she probably would not be able to freely choose the man she would marry.

Life would suck sometimes.

_ Well, at least I am not North… _

***

Up North, a man opens his eyes. It is cold, but the darkness had dissipated.  
  
  
his wolf sits beside him and is the first to welcome him back- back to life.  
  
  
  



	2. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last days in Meereen are nothing if not productive- for Daenerys, for Missandei and definitely for Aurane.
> 
> Meanwhile, Jon Snow made some decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT- Full disclosure: endgame pairing is Jon/ Dany. I dont want to go in full detail of what will come next, but is not a threesome of any kind.  
> The reason I am saying it is because I had tagged both pairings KNOWING FULL WELL the asscunts of this fandom would make sure to comment in their usual polite way.  
> It pains me to say. I don't like Jonsas, but Jonsas are nowhere near as butthurt as some so-called " jonerys" are.  
> The way I deal with it is by deleting their rude comments, tagging s well as I can and making notes. Still, they come very damn time. Tsc tsc tsc.
> 
> Dont like, dont read.
> 
> I might return and edit this chapter. It is long because it is a transitory chapter where, superficially speaking, not much happens, but a lot of ideas are being left behind.

Although Daenerys placidly accepted her miraculous return to this godforsaken, lawless world, right after having lived (and died) in a place where social mobility was not a dirty word, could only mean she was now morally obligated to change said world, bringing its people kicking and screaming to the next stage of mankind's evolution, she would be damned if she would not embark on this adventure with a modicum of style and comfort: 

“ _ Pockets _ ” Daenerys answered the stunned seamstress as she showed the woman and her assistants the several drawings she had been working on the whole morning. 

Not that her current wardrobe was Michele Clapton level of absurdity, but Daenerys would not go to battle wearing an impractical Disney villain outfit- pockets were a must: 

“Small pouches that are sewn inside the clothes are to be the new norm from now on.”

Ser Barristan Selmy smiled at the scene, pride and confusion entwined. Far from complaining about Her Grace´s newfound creative fervor ( some of her innovations would place them years ahead of their enemies and save thousands of lives) but a week since her return and the old soldier had all but given up hope of ever understanding how Daenerys' mind worked.

One day his Queen was busily taking part in a very illuminating dialogue with the learned men and scribes she had been attracting to her Court , instructing the lawmakers in setting an intricate coded legal system where people were considered innocent until proven otherwise, and in the next day... Daenerys was meeting with a legion of seamstress and discussing the creation of... _ pockets _ .

_ She is just like her brother, just like Rhaegar. _

Ser Barristan ´s only hope was that their similarities ended in their inventiveness.

If Daenerys died, everything was lost.

***

If there was one thing Daenerys enjoyed about this whole madness of being Queen by God's right was the fact that people not only paid attention to what she said, but took her _s_ __e_ riously _ .

No matter how outlandish an idea might have seemed to them, those men and women would at least _try_ to make it work if only because it was the word of their Queen, and therefore, it was the Law.

Strangely enough, Daenery's ultimate goal was to make this behavior change, if not starkly, at least permanently. 

No, she doubted those societies would be ready for democracy in her lifetime. Political changes are easy- changing mentalities and customs, difficult.

It would take time. It would be faced with great resistance. Two steps forward, one step back.

But she would be the beginning of it- the spark.

The work would hopefully be picked up by the generations to come. 

Dragons might not plant trees, but Daenerys would make sure they helped to plant ideas...

She could sense Ser Barristan's eyes on her as she spoke with the ladies of the garment district. The old knight behaved like a proud parent- a bit exasperated by the incessant energy of her youth, but utterly charmed by her commitment. 

It was an apt reaction- a positive one. All in all, everything was going better than she expected. Nobody had picked up on the change, both in her appearance and interests, other than to praise them. 

That was logical. Who would want to piss a woman with three dragons off? No one! But it was logical they had no idea what she went through. Why would anyone doubt Daenerys was nobody else but herself?

Multiverse theory was not something those people would discuss at breakfast...

Yes, her skin tone was a bit darker than the previous Targaryen alabaster, but this could be explained by all that time she spent on the dessert...or the fact that she was probably five centimeters taller as her older clothes could attest to since she was, although older than what it had been described in the books, still a teenager and therefore, still subject to sudden growth spurts…

However, the strangest aspect of her second return to life noticing her taste in men remained -suprisingly- the same- 

If that would be a problem, only the future- the one Daenerys was actively working to change- would tell. 

Daenerys had been granted the chance to go to a different place, live in a different time, and learn their ways. She had also been subjected to the pure agony of watching a distorted version of a possible future in which she had done terrible things, and although many wanted to believe even that story had a happy ending and a moral lesson, it did not.

It was all for naught, the destruction of one of the only good people in a story filled with all shades of garbage people because said destruction brought no  real change. 

No lessons had been learned, no progress had been made.

The lords just sat their asses on their comfortable chairs and laughed at the thought of the people having any say in anything.

All because some genius believed all love stories had to end badly. 

Stupid men are even more stupid when they try to be deep...

At any rate, Daenerys had thought long, time and again, about Westeros and the great war, about ice and fire; about love and hatred; about the difficult days she would undoubtedly have, her mission and her destiny.

Her ending and her beginning. 

and it all came down to Jon Snow...

She did not like that- she did not like that _at all._

_ Prophecies are just plot devices to prompt a story forward and relieve the characters from having real agency. _

But Daenerys not only had real agency, but she refused to give it up. _We are what we do and what we believe in._ Daenerys believed in herself and she believed in choices: she would go to Westeros because it was her choice to do so. She felt indebted to whatever forces brought her back and she would do what she could to save mankind, but saving meant also rescuing them not only from the reach of Ice Demons but from thousands of years of stagnation and oppression. 

and again, Jon was the key.

Not only to fight the white walkers, but also to provide those lands with enough stability and stimulus to recover and move forward.

Despite knowing deep in her heart that things would go different, things could also end the same.

Because of that possibility, Daenerys was weary. 

***

In the face of uncertainty, she resolved the best approach was to prepare herself to whatever would come her way.

Good or bad, Daenerys would be ready.

***

“ You're pushing yourself too hard, Khaleesi”

Daenerys knew he was right. Ser Jorah, not a particularly good man with no particularly good reasons for following her, wanted nothing more than to make sure Daenerys would succeed.

Out of desperation, Daenerys decided to begin her training at arms. She had never had time before, nor she had time now, but one makes time when one´s life was at risk. 

Now that Daenerys set the house in order, she rearranged her schedule by granting her advisors of more autonomy. It was pleasant to see she had surrounded herself with capable people. They were not ignorant savages to be condescended with or talked down to they were of a different time, different cultures, but they also had talent and cunning and could teach her a thing or two.

So, Daenerys asked Ser Jorah and Grey Worm to train her. One hour a day, at first. She also spoke to Rhakaro about lessons and had commissioned the armorers to work on something for her and Drogon.

The second day on her training and Daenerys was already getting impatient. She had been pretty active before and even more so during her second life, so she hoped all those hours hiking and practicing mixed martial arts would have prepared her to learn how to defend herself, middle-age style.

Oh boy, how  _ wrong _ she was!

It was not that Daenerys lacked agility- muscle memory was indeed a thing- and her coordination had impressed both Greyworm and Ser Jorah, but the reality of sword fight was that it demanded focus, dedication and, of course, natural talent.

“You are right, Ser Jorah- but the time is short.” She then gave him- and herself- a reassuring smile. “ Luckily, my goal is a humble one.” 

Daenerys had no expectations of becoming a master at arms overnight, nor was she picturing herself at the frontlines any time soon, but she was determined to at least learn the basics of it because if she was to be stabbed to death by a manpain stricken family relation, she wanted to make sure she would take  _ him  _ down as well. 

***

After crushing the harpies with all her might, Daenerys began to revitalize the city, and, to her delight, things were better than she expected or remembered. 

This relatively backward way of living had its advantages over the modern one. For starters, there was no mass consumption. Food was pretty much organically handled and locally sourced. There was less variety, of course, but also less waste and more recycling- people have to be inventive with what they had and value their possessions more, thus repairing them instead of the never-ending cycle of buying appliances that would only work for a year, two at tops, and repurposing articles when those had outgrown their initial uses. 

The roads were in relatively good shape and the food transportation from the hinterlands to the main center continued as it was before- there was no point in changing what had thus far proved effective. Daenerys gladly put this worry behind her and focused her time in three main areas: improvement of existing practices or products; introduction of new ideas and concepts and the reclaiming of her dragon blood heritage and magic.

While the first two were relatively easy, especially since Daenery's expectations were admittedly low, the third one was very complicated. 

Even with Marwyn in her employ, much of dragonlore had sunken with Valyria.

Besides, she would have to be an absolute moron to place her entire trust on sorcery ever again, so any red priest who would come her way would be taken seriously, but with a grain of salt.

In the absence of proved knowledge, Daenerys would have to stick with her guts and common sense.

Dragons were animals, neither good nor evil. The analogy of weapons of mass destruction was stupid because they were not. If anything resembled an atomic bomb in this time, it was wildfire, a fire that Daenerys had no access to, nor interest in. 

Dragons were living beings and should be treated with respect. If they caused havoc, it was because they were untrained- they did not know any better. They could go either way depending on its dragonrider, therefore Daenerys would be the one assessing who would have access to the dragons- and who should be denied.

“We are to feed the dragons ourselves at least once every three days, to avoid unnecessary manslaughter.” Daenerys had the fighting pits adapted to receive her dragons. She would never lock them, but she reasoned they needed a place to rest and be cared for when not flying the skies and doing... _whateve_ r dragons did in their spare time.

Most dragonlords made use of spells and artifacts to bend dragons to their wills. Although House Targaryen was a minor one when the Empire was at its height, their magic was the purest: they were blood of the dragon, and all they needed to do to bond with a dragon was to  _ dream _ .

But there were other ways, simpler ways, of taming a dragon.

Like the girl Nettles.

“Missandei, do you like cats?”

Slightly confused- slaves were not allowed pets- Missandei replied: “ I suppose so…”

This was good enough, Daenerys decided. “ You must think of dragons as big cats. They will do as they please. They do not need you- they are not dogs- but they like to have you around. You should be at ease with them, but not too close.”

Unsure if she understood her Queen´s intentions correctly, Missandei asked. “ Your Grace, they are used to my presence yes, but…”

“Let us...just try this once, yes?” Daenerys did not want to force her friend into an uncomfortable situation- but she needed a dragonrider for Viserion, lest the dragons would always be more vulnerable than his siblings.

_ And I already failed Viserys...mad as he was by the end, he was my brother...he kept me alive. Viserion shall do what Viserys could not. _

There was nobody more deserving of her trust than Missandei, an intelligent young woman who had known deprivation and abuse and still survived to learn 19 Languages and become the advisor of a Queen.

(and people still commended Tyrion Lannister on his book reading habits or Sansa for keeping her ladý armor on all times, the same people would rarely mention Missandei of Naarth, child prodigy and all-around force for good in the world!)

While Daenerys had foreknowledge, she also changed things as well. She was not driving blind, but it was close enough to make her extra careful. 

By attacking the khalasars before they found her and returning to Meereen in a space of days, Daenerys had saved time, yes, but also, she had brought in even more unpredictability to the history.

And she was fine with it. Yes, she was. Daenerys knew she could not hope to be responsible for each and every new wrinkle in this time, as she could not be responsible for each and every person in this world, but she could try to better protect their own.

Missandei might die in the war. But she might also survive. Daenerys knew the risks. What she could do was make sure Missandei would not die a slave, in chains, incapable of defending herself.

***

Missandei waited until Daenerys jerked her head in her direction to walk towards the dragons. She was helping the Dothraki pushing the carts carrying the three large cows, already butchered, that would serve as a meal to Her Grace's children.

A third of the arena was occupied by cargo. There was not much room for storage in the city as of late since the Queen had given orders for two improvised hospitals to be quarantined at the docks, so the fighting pits were a suitable location.

“Behave!” Daenerys affectionately said to her dragons as Viserion, not known for his patience, eyed the carts way too eagerly. 

“Missandei, if you are not opposed, I will ask my bloodriders to watch in the distance, yes? “

Missandei nodded. Truthfully, she was not even sure she was scared anymore.

She had watched the little prince, the one Ser Barristan called a frog, die from his wounds. He had been a fool, she knew it, for thinking he could do in one day what took years for Her Grace to accomplish, but still...Missandei did not want to die.

Not today.

“Yes, Your Grace- you may tell them to leave.” 

Daenerys briefly addressed her bloodriders in their language before turning to Missande as the man dropped the corpses on the floor and left with the carts. 

“ I will feed Drogon and Rhaegal first. Watch me and then, do the same with Viserion.”

As instructed, Missandei watched Her Grace as she dealt with her children, barely able to move or hide her anxiety.

“Drōgon, iksā se ēlī”

Upon hearing his name and the command, Drogon, who had been flying in circles, landed at the center of the arena, gave one look at his mother´s direction as if waiting for confirmation he could go forward and, once he got it, set the corpse instantly ablaze.

“I hope it is not too warm for you, being that close?”

Missandei wanted to reply with words, but she barely managed to jerk her head in the affirmative before Daenerys spoke again. “ Would you and Marselen like to return to Naath once our work is done and help protect your people?”

Missandei supposed that yes, she would like that, but she was unsure Her Grace would ever be truly done with her work.

” There is much to be done here, Your Grace.”

“Rhaīgal, aōha jēda”

Rhaegal, wilder than his older brother, did not wait for his mother permission and was playfully admonished for it: 

“Rhaīgal, sagon sȳrkta”

“You are right, and yet, we all need our rest.” Daenerys extended her hand to Missandei, who took it promptly. “You are braver than you think you are, my friend.”

Missandei looked up at the skies, a yellow shadow above her head. She took a deep breath and before she would regret it, loudly commanded. 

“ Visērion aōha jēda.”

***

Daenerys was pleased with herself. Her instincts did not fail her: Missandei was unafraid and Viserion, as receptive as dragons could be.

It was such a relief, to see that she had not placed her friend in danger. Daenerys stepped back and watched as Viserion took his time eating his meal while Missandei remained nearby, undisturbed.

Daenerys was very aware of her surroundings and knew the men working at unloading cargo had been watching them the whole time. 

Not that she could blame them: dragons were still a marvel most men would die without witnessing.

But Daenerys found a pair of eyes she had not expected to see there- and something in them made her disarmingly playful:

“ Hello there,  _ cousin-  _ how are you _? _ ”

Aurane could not have looked more surprised- confidently surprised. 

_ There _ , Daenerys thought, a vain  _ man that actually has reasons to be vain. _

Aurane was very handsome and, to Daenerys at least, did not look as dangerous and obviously villainesque as any of the other pirates she had read about.

Velaryons were actually more successful at sailing and adventuring than the Greyjoys, Daenerys quietly reminded herself.

_ Driftmark had been, at one point during the rule of Corlys, among the richest castles in Westeros. _

The corsair approached the Queen with great confidence, curtsying in that old fashioned manner of his, a sly smile on his lips: 

“ If you want to be more precise, Your Grace, I am a distant, but obviously proud,  _ uncle _ of yours.”

_ A know- it all.  _ It took some guts to correct someone with dragons- precisely the quality Daenerys sought in her advisors: 

“You must be right. I know little of our shared ancestry, but our Houses had long intermarried with each other.” She also had received a splendid education during her second life, and was far from being ignorant to the lore either, but nobody knew  _ that _ . “There is Velaryon blood in every Targaryen as there is Targaryen blood in every Velaryon.”

“My name is Waters,  _ not _ Velaryon, Your Grace.”

The remark, made in a neutral tone, could only mask deep hurt or uncomfortable acceptance.

After all, bastardy was a stain in the eyes of Westeros .

But instead of developing an inferiority complex, Aurane, all swagger, all defiance, chose to call himself Lord of Waters - a play to the title his half brother claimed once their father fell in battle, Lord of Tides, a choice Daenerys could not say she vehemently disapproved of. 

“ I care very little about such things. We are more than the fruit of our father's loins.”

“Indeed.” 

In the books a tertiary character, Aurane Waters presence in Dragon´s Bay was an anomaly- an anomaly that puzzled Daenerys. 

“Why did you come here, my Lord? And I am not asking in jest. I am genuinely curious.”

What had changed, Daenerys wondered. Why was Aurane there? She had asked that upon their first meeting, and his official answer had been satisfactory- but she thought there might be more to it. 

The other pirate, Victarion, unceremoniously killed by Dragonfire without even speaking to her, had also freed slaves only in order to impress the woman he assumed would be his bride. Dumb as rocks, Victarion, a legitimate son of a Great House, would be someone she was obliged to at least meet, and the move, while self serving, was also logical.

But Aurane, a bastard, had done the same. Was he “stealing” Victarion´s plot? Did Daenerys really need a pirate among her retinue?

Had her return inadvertently caused Vicatrion´s sudden death and the forces- that-be sought to recast the role?

This was all _very_ complicated.

“In truth, I can hardly explain myself why I came, Your Grace.” __

_ A whim? _ Was Aurane as impulsive as to change his life course to gamble on a dragon queen?

Apparently, yes. __

_ I am glad he does not claim this is about any prophecy or potent omen he had witnessed. _

“I heard of dragons, of a silver-haired Queen and I decided to see it for myself. Call it ambition, a desire for vengeance, a love of gold...I sailed East to find whatever I have been looking for."

***

They returned to the Pyramid, leaving Aurane and his men behind, and continued working, with Irri joining Daenerys and Missandei after the Sun had set to give her opinion on Her Grace´s new designs.

“Silk for bloodriders?” the handmaiden asked incredulously. “ They will never wear this, Your Grace- it is not their way.”

Daenerys begged to differ. Dying in battle was a common aspiration among the Dothraki, but nobody wanted to die young, she reasoned.

“What about the backpacks for the foot soldiers, do you think is a good idea?”

Irri answered she had not considered it because she knew the Unsullied would do as Daenerys commanded, which was mostly true, but any criticism at this stage, before they started production. was welcomed.

“Mayhaps Your Grace should ask the commanders?” Missandei politely interjected.” To me, it seems a good idea, but I know little of war preparations.” 

“Hopefully, a prototype will be ready by tomorrow. Only then I will call my war council and ask their input. It will give us time to correct any imperfections and be ready to set sail by next month.”

***

As Ser Gerrys Drinkwater would always half blame her for the death of his friend and treated Daenerys with polite iciness, when she entertained the dornishmen most of her conversation was directed to Ser Archibald Yronwood, who older and more experienced than his companion, knew nobody had forced Quentyn to do what he did.

“Dorne trades more often with foreign lands than any other realm of the Seven Kingdoms: have you, Ser Archibald, perchance heard about a fruit called cacao?”

Daenerys' hope lasted just a second: of course, nobody had heard of cacao or chocolate for that matter, and she lost some minutes trying to explain the characteristics and taste of both products in vain.

It was depressing: a life without chocolate!

There she was, playing at being a Queen, pretending to be this great mind who came up with all this inventions by herself, basically living a lie, on the verge of embarking on this anti-slavery crusade before landing on war-torn Westeros, where she would probably die in battle and the things that bothered her the most was the nonexistence of chocolate 

_ At least I will have pockets...pockets are fine, right? _

There were other things she craved too, things that a woman in her position should not crave- at least not in public- but there he was, Aurane Waters in all his valyrian glory, a feast for her sore eyes.

Was she imagining things or was Aurane interested? God, how she hated all that Cersei's parallels! Daenerys was no longer a character in a book - her life should not be a succession of tropes wrapped up in an old man´s depraved fantasies!

The last thing Daenerys needed was to get stuck thinking about her past life and the only thing that would take her mind off it would be indulging in some  carnality.

But the night continued and the wine flowed. Daenerys and Ser Archibald carried on their conversation for another ten minutes before the dornishman excused himself to his rooms earlier than expected.

“ This sweet wine does not agree with me. Your Grace.”

As it would be unbecoming to address anyone through screams, Daenerys actually stood up and made some rounds, speaking to various guests at the function. It was not a large group, but an eclectic one- she made sure to spend at least one hour each evening socializing with nobles and allies because it was how business was conducted.

Finally, after some minutes of paying bland compliments and receiving hyperbolic ones, Daenerys finally reached her destination.

Leaning against a wall, Aurane Waters was speaking with a somewhat feminine looking fella Daenerys recognized from the fighting pits.

“Cousin, would you like to join me at the table?”

Aurane bowed, smiling with obvious delight at the suggestion.

“ An honour, Your Grace.” 

His companion, however, seemed slightly irritated, but made no objections at being left behind.

Could it be? Daenerys had watched enough Black Sails to understand the sexual politics of pirates and wondered for what team- or teams- Aurane played.

Not that she was bothered by it. There was nothing sexier than a consensual liaison between two adults. As long as the whole thing would be devoid of drama and mutually beneficial, Daenerys was game: 

“ Your friend is a member of your crew, yes? He does find my antics entertaining. If both of you are engaged in some form of.. _.deep friendship _ , it is not my intention to intrude.”

“Maicon is not my bedmate if that is what Your Grace is asking.” Aurane sounded more amused than irritated and overall surprised at the rather direct question.” There was a reason I sailed to Lys, Your Grace, the reason being I happen to prefer my women to actually be women.”

The rest of the evening was a blur. Daenerys got quite flushed, both from wine and from flirting. Aurane had obviously been raised as to not draw unnecessary attention to himself, and it did not help he was also a pirate, so the conversation was, at first, more like an interrogation on Daenerys part.

Drinking, however, helped matters. After the initial round of simply answering leading questions, they conversed more naturally and, by the time Daenerys finally ended the evening, she, perhaps not as discreetly as she would have liked to, leaned in and whispered in Aurane´ ears:

“Would you like to extend this conversation to my ... _ parlour _ ?”

***

Daenerys had asked Irri to instruct Missandei about the things that happened between a man and a woman behind doors before they could arrange for Aurane to visit her apartments. She did not want any interruptions or awkwardness among her inner circle and, since the scribe and her maids all slept in the same room, they had to understand why she was asking them to sleep at the antechamber so that her meeting could take place.

When Jhiqui finally ushered Aurane in and left, Daenerys' heart started racing.

_ This is a bad idea.  _

Aurane did not move, which made Daenerys even more nervous. Had she read too much into their flirty interactions?

“If you wish to be somewhere else, you should leave, Aurane. I promise you I will not hold it against you.”

This definitely confused the tall valyrian. “ Why would you think this, Your Grace?”

“For starters, you are calling me Your Grace.” Memories of Daario, a lifetime ago, entered her mind. The sellsword had liked this sort of dynamic, but it bored Daenerys- well, at least now . “ and you are just standing there. Are you waiting for a command? If you don't want this---”

“Even if the doors behind are closed and nobody is here, you are still Queen and I still have to respect your position, even though all I want to do is to tear your clothes off and fuck you until you scream my name.”

“Do it, then.” Daenerys pointed at her expensive blue dress, lust coloring her fine features.

His hands were large and calloused, but his touch gentle, almost _too_ gentle. Daenerys loved how his beard brushed against her face- his kisses were intense, but his hands, still hesitant.

“I am not made of glass, Aurane.” Daenerys huffed between kisses. “ I am the blood of the dragon, remember?”

“You are rather small and precious. The kind of women I am used to are... _ very  _ different from you...  _ Daenerys _ . ” His greyish green eyes looked deep inside hers, in search of something she did not know. “ May I call you by your given name, yes?”

“You are about to fuck me,  _ Aurane, so yes. _ ”

Daenerys' doubts about Aurane's willingness had evaporated the instant they touched. His very impressive hardness was undeniable. The problem seemed to be their power imbalance- the rules of engagement were clearly not set upon- and by his own admission, Aurane had not often laid with high born women.

Judging by his behaviour, he had no qualms of going rough on them but hesitated in doing so with Daenerys.

“Do whatever you wish to do with me, Aurane. If I don't like it, I will tell you to stop, and you will stop.”

This turned out to be all the incentive Aurane needed. Before Daenerys blinked they were both happily naked, exploring each others bodies to their heart´s content.

He was on top of her, a powerful, yet not frightening figure. His body was muscular, but lean, with fewer csars than Daenerys had anticipated. Aurane, she concluded, was either a very skilled fighter or had not seen much action in his lifetime. Either way, she liked what she saw and liked even more what she heard. 

“I want to see if you taste as good as you smell.” No answer required, Daenerys parted her legs inviting Aurane in, but he took some time admiring the sight. 

“ You have---”

“No hair, yes. I removed most of it.” Painful as it was, Daenerys insisted on waxing every five weeks. She did herself, with a honey-based recipe, and the results were not too shabby in her opinion.

The mound, however, she left almost intact. Daenerys did not want to look like a child, just to get rid of the excess.

Aurane went down with such gusto that left Daenerys breathless. She was not one to complain, especially when his enthusiastic tongue had already provided her with a delicious orgasm, so she playfully complimented him on his oral technique. 

“ You taste sweet to my lips- I bet you will feel wonderful around my cock.” He was a talker. Daenerys liked that. Perhaps, with intimacy, he would speak even dirtier to her and she would like that even better.

But for now, it indeed felt wonderful. Aurane´s size was nothing to be ashamed of, but his main asset was the girth: thick, round, delicious. He worked himself towards a steady rhythm of thrusts that had Daenerys moaning her satisfaction in no time and i t was going very smoothly for a first time coupling, with Daenerys imagining they would reach their completions any time soon, just to be informed Aurane had other plans. 

“ Turn.” The authoritative tone had a touch of roguishness, both qualities that surprised Daenerys for a quick moment before she decided she quite liked being told what to do for a change.

In place of a reply, Daenerys did what she was told. Aurane corrected her pose; he did not mean for her to be on fours, but half sitting, arms pressed on the bed board, his own torso glued to her back. 

Aurane nibbed her neck with ferocity, his fingers rubbing her first her folds, then her nub, evenly spreading her moisture over her nether parts. 

“ Now that I know what your cunt tastes like, I want to move forward.”

This, Daenerys thought, was unexpected.

But not exactly unwelcomed.

***

Aurane did not know how long his luck would hold. He had heard stories about the Dragon Queen in Volantis and, although he knew them to be fabrications, he reckoned there must be some shred of truth laced with the lies.

Just because she took him to bed it did not mean he was irreplaceable. Aurane knew he could be vain and quite full of himself, but Daenerys was not Cersei, a woman falling prey to herself, and he truly wanted her.

No, Daenerys was something else altogether, the closest the world would have ever get to the glorious days of Old Valyria, the three heads of the Dragon all rolled into one.

As far as Aurane was concerned, he should not waste this chance. Daenerys had given him her authorization to do with her as he pleased, and this might, very well, be a one-time thing.

So, he reasoned, he would go all for it. “ Now that I know what your cunt tastes like, I want to move forward.”

For a second, Aurane thought he had overstepped, silently cursing himself for his boldness, when she suddenly replied. 

“Why not? I trust you will make it pleasurable for the both of us.”

Aurane readily agreed. “ Of course.” His father had been adamant about the importance of a satisfied partner, even if said partner was of the whoring kind, for , according to him, women liked to talk about it as much as men, and nobody would want to be known as a disappointing lover.

Aurane started out by easing his way into her rear end with his finger, circling and stretching it while he continued leaving a trail of kisses and small bites over her exposed neck and earlobes and if Daenerys would spot some love bites in the morn, this would only make him more pleased.

When he finally lodged his cock inside her ass, Aurane might have lost a bit of his self-control and pressed himself too strongly on her small, lithe body, but she responded quite well, first with an “ oh” and then by singing her pleasure, until he spurted his seed all over her round, lovely ass only to collapse, exhausted, by her side.

***

“Why are you leaving?” Daenerys questioned a disheveled Aurane, who abruptly stood up in the middle of her post coitus bliss.

Stunned, Aurane blubled he thought she would want it this way…

She contemplated his reaction for a bit, before stating he might stay if he wanted to. 

He did. 

So he returned to her bed, only leaving when her handmaidens came with the first rays of light. 

***

Jon executed them all, the men who betrayed him, and then, went back to his rooms, only emerging after two full days had passed.

He did not eat, did not sleep. Jon just sat at his armchair, staring at the fire, for two full days, barely moving, barely breathing, barely alive.

And then, something happened inside of him. For the first time in his life, Jon did not think twice: he just stood up and started packing his things.

He would go to Winterfell. 

He would fight for Winterfell.

He would reclaim Winterfell.

How could he hope to defend the realms of men if he could not even defend his own family? Jon knew the answer: he had no family. He had given up both the name and the Castle that were not his to have in the first place. 

But he had died. _ Jon had died _ . And, with his death, his vows too, were gone.

He was Lord Commander no more, but he was still the bastard of Winterfell.

Before leaving for good, Jon had some questions. he wanted to know. 

He was told the Red Woman had kissed his forehead, claiming it was the last rites, right before she left with the Queen and the Princess to join King Stannis.

But Melisandre did not tarry and Jon remained dead for another day.

When he finally opened his eyes, Jon was, except for Ghost, alone.

Like had had always been.

Now, though, things would be different. Mance Rayder had gone to Winterfell and the Free Folk stationed at The Wall was restless.

Some of their men, the more adventurous ones, offered to follow Jon south. They needed food. They needed gold if they were to stay there. They needed to know if the southern King would keep his word…

About a hundred of the Free Folk chose to go. Most of the new recruits too joined the former Lord Commander in his quest. Jon had no illusions: those boys wanted to survive and their best chances would be south. 

So Jon left Castle Black at first sunlight, never once looking back at the place where his miserable life had been taken away from him. 


	3. Sailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Meereen behind is difficult, but leaving Volantis behind proves to be even more difficult as the relationship with Aurane progresses in a surprising way.
> 
> Daenerys juggles a series of important decisions- tattoos included.
> 
> In the North, Jon is at Winterfell...and he can feel something is up in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically I would like to post twice a month. With everything that is going on with the world, I am not sure I can, but I will try.
> 
> fair warning: I only corrected and edited this chapter once. Typos and mistakes might be abound.

The beautiful body soundly sleeping next to her stirred. Daenerys gently caressed his locks, the long silver hair spread over the pillow, the cheeks slightly flushed. 

Daenerys envied Aurane. All the man needed to do was to close his eyes and fall into slumber while she had barely managed an hour of rest, and this not before some struggle.

She was anxious and restless about the future. Why was she leaving again? Daenerys knew  _ why _ , but the reason did not matter to her heart. She was tired of war and all Westeros had to offer her was war- a war worth fighting, no doubt, but war nevertheless.

In Meereen, she could rest. Daenerys had finally crushed her opposition, the city was on the mend and even the Dothraki showed great enthusiasm about ending slavery- probably because it meant they would be sacking cities and roaming the plains with dragons to boot, but  _ still _ …

She did _ not  _ want to go to Westeros.

Had it been her choice, Daenerys would stay to see the trees grow and bear fruits. Life in Meereen would be simpler. The possibilities, bountiful; the prospects, exciting.. It was a culturally and racially diverse place where Daenerys would fit in as their Queen, as she too was like them-  _ different. _

A foreigner, a transplant from another land, a woman who spoke this tongue with a heavy accent, weary of the past and eager for the future.

In Meereen, Daenerys would not be otherized, fetished or hailed as a member of a superior race.

In Meeren, Daenerys, a Valyrian, would be joined by Lhazarene, Summer Islanders, Dothraki, Naathi, Ghiscari and they, together, would forge a new identity.

But staying was not an option.

Daenerys _ had _ to go. __

_ She had to _ . 

Eventually, the Long Night would come and reach Essos. Daenerys had the tools to prevent this- she would not allow the former slaves to escape their harsh masters only to perish in winter to an even harsher master: Death.

She had to go and pacify Westeros. Unify the Seven Kingdoms under Fire so that they defeat The Cold,thus preventing the world from experiencing the never-ending horror of a non-existence.

But in Meereen, in this new world---there would be no need for a political marriage.

_ Jon, it always comes down to Jon. _

In this new world, Daenerys would get to create the rules...she would get to choose and---

“You should go back to sleep, Dany.” In her reveries, she had failed to notice Aurane had awake. 

“ Come to bed, Dany.”

His long arms pulled her closer, planting one of his warm kisses on her neck. He had one hand firmly circling her waist while the other gently caressed her temple in a bid to relay her body so that her mind could rest. 

“Another dream?”

Daenerys nodded.  _ A dream _ . An easy explanation.  _ A lie _ .

Or maybe, not. 

Perhaps, in some strange way, all that came before- even her second life- had been dreams.

But if they were dreams, Daenerys would like to  _ never _ dream again.

***

The next day, Daenerys woke up feeling slightly more optimistic and decided to reinforce said feelings by avoiding thinking of Westeros too deeply, other than to quietly remind herself that nothing-  _ nothing _ \- could be as bad as the make-belief version of that place- not exactly a comforting thought, but a better one.

After breaking her fast, Daenerys went to meet her children. Every second day, she would take a small group of advisors to feed the dragons. Although only Missandei and her called them from the skies, Rakharo, Greyworm, Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Jhogo, Strong Belwas, Archmaester Marwyn and Aurane were welcomed to stay in the vicinities at the fighting pits during the feedings, watching from the sidelines as the women interacted with the animals.

The new routine had startled Ser Barristan at first. “Your Grace” the old knight questioned Daenerys when she invited him to join them “  _ why  _ ?”

_ Was it not obvious enough?  _ “If I am to die, the dragons will be hunted down. I cannot allow them to die, Ser Barristan. They are part of Dragons´Bay´s legacy. I do not expect every and each one of you to become a rider, but you can learn about my children, understand them, and make sure they will behave and be well cared after in the event of my death.”

Thankfully, Ser Barristan made no protest. Being a soldier his whole life, the stormlander knew that each and every battle could be the last and since his Queen was a warrior, to battle she would go. 

Although Ser Barristan prayed to the Seven to protect Daenerys once they marched, he would not insult her intelligence by dismissing the possibility entirely.

As they proceeded with the feeding, Daenerys' treacherous mind went back to Westeros and, as usual, it was not pretty.

There was a westerlander in their midst that needed her attention.

Daenerys sighed. She could postpone all she wanted, but eventually, she would have to deal with Tyrion Lannister.

So far Daenerys had little contact with Tyrion. She was buying time. Time to find a way to use his skills to her benefit and gain his nominal support. She had to find a balance between giving him a role big enough to his ego while keeping him from playing the bigger role he so craved.

Therefore, before Daenerys could formulate a clear plan on how to deal Tyrion, she assigned Ser Barristan to handle the little man, urging the knight to give the dwarf jobs befitting his skills and previous experience, while constantly asking Tyrion to join her social gatherings, a supposed mark of her growing approval.

“ We must keep him at arms lengths, close enough as to give him the illusion of power while not actually having much power at all.”

By all accounts, this approach was working. Ser Barristan was instructed to gradually increase Tyrion´s workload in accordance with his “ successes” and she went as far as to exchange a couple of complimentary words with the westerlander, their interactions as bland as innocuous as she could make.

This kept him busy and happy. At any rate, Daenerys would keep him, if not because of his many gifts and family name, definitely because of his sister and her fear of a certain prophecy.

Maybe Aegon´s campaign was not successful...maybe Cersei would still be in Power when Daenerys arrived, or even perhaps, someone else would be there, just waiting for the next piece of the domino to fall?

Nevermind who would be sitting on the Iron Throne. Aegon. Cersei. Brandon.  _ Jon… _

The best policy, in Daenerys estimation, was to be prepared for anything that came her way.

  
  


***

Daenerys spent more than just a moment admiring the new robes. _ They are more than fine- they are beautiful _ ! It had all been done in accordance with her vision and, if she drew more than inspiration from Guillermo Del Toro's The Hobbit artwork, at least  _ nobody _ in this world would be in a position to accuse her of plagiarism.

_ I am such a fraud! _

Daenerys shook her head- it was actually not t _ hat _ bad. She had not copied the designs, just used them as basis, as inspiration for her own line, not unlike many before her. __

No matter; there was enough of her own imagination imbued in the clothes to make them her own creations, Daenerys consoled herself…

And it had been quite a laborious, complicated process anyway. They had to think about functionality, costs, weather constraints, adapting her ideas and concepts to the realities they would be facing, in Meereen, Volantis or Westeros..

So far, Daenerys could say they had been successful: her tunics, dresses, boots, underwear, gowns, and accessories were the firsts to be ready and they looked  _ splendid, e _ xactly how she had pictured them: Tolkien imaginary meeting Michelle Pfeiffer Scarface´s wardrobe.

Not only would the greatness and importance of their mission be impressed upon allies and foes alike through clothing and heraldry, but also, gifting her people in luxurious fashion was a good way to reward them for their work and contributions.

Irri, Jhiqui, and Missandei´s clothes were yet to be completed. They had collaborated in their making, giving suggestions, and making adjustments to the original ideas. Daenerys hoped they would be pleased. If Jhiqui´s reaction was any indication, they would.

“ Khaleesi, the bloodriders approve of the armor, but complain about the silk shirts.”

Irri had just come through the door, concerned written over her face.In all honesty, Daenerys should have expected it. She had seen Dorhaki wearing Lamellar armor made of hardened leather and iron before- it was an ideal choice for experienced horsemen, something they would gladly work with- but asking them to wear a silk shirt underneath was unheard.

Daenerys knew the armor and the shirt either worked as a combo. They either worked together or did not work at all.

These men were her most trusted bloodriders, the ones she would be taking to Westeros. The bulk of her khalasar would remain in Essos, where they would be attacking the slaver´s cities they knew so well. It made more strategic sense to do so: Westeros armies were depleted, winter was coming, and the fight against the White Walkers would not be won by numbers alone- in fact, great numbers might actually be a hindrance to an army that literally uses necromancy as an everyday practice.

20.000 bloodriders was hardly a small number, but also, not a large one. Therefore, it was paramount to Daenerys war effort that the Dothraki were properly attired, as they simply could not afford losing bloodriders to Westerosi archers.

“The War Council meets after lunch. Irri, go to the kitchens and see if they have a butchered pig to spare, please?”

For her own good, Daenerys hoped the silk shirt trick would work- she had completely missed this episode of Myth busters. 

***

Daenerys swore under her breath, inpatient with all that hand moving happening on her head. As a hairstylist, Irri was quite skilled. 

But Irri stuck by the rules, insisting on brushing and braiding the Queen´s hair every day, as per the Dothraki tradition.

“Khaleesi must be proud of her victories. The bells singing are a good sound.” 

It seemed unwise to correct Irri in her wisdom, especially when the woman was right. This was a tradition Daenerys thought lovely to follow, as it showed the horse lords not as savage, brown-skinned destroyers of cities, but also as people whose culture was more than killing - sensible enough as to spend time on personal grooming and subtly enough as to have their own symbols of status.

This is not to say braiding could not be improved. Daenerys tried to squeeze every single moment out of her workday and spending an hour a day on such routine was the opposite of making every hour counts.

For the sake of her rulership, Daenerys asked Missandei to come each morning during the braiding, and they both would go through the Queen's correspondence. The task was simple enough, but all that capillary action made Daenerys doozy- Irri´s hands had a relaxing effect hard to ignore for one hour straight.

When Irri finally finished, Daenerys thanked her handmaid for a job well done, silently vowing to herself this would be the last time she would be put through this sweet torture.

Daenerys then made haste to the war room. She was, of course, fashionably late. Nobody dared say anything. Aurane just arched his eyebrows and smiled- he knew exactly why Daenerys was late and it amused him.

“Before we are to discuss the plans for the upcoming siege, it has come to my attention that some of my men are less than thankful for my gifts.” Daenerys turned to Rhakaro and addressed him directly. “ Blood of my blood, tell me about your men´s complaints.”

“Khaleesi, we are thankful for the gifts, but the shirt is impractical.”

“The shirts are to be worn as undergarments, beneath the new armor. I will rejoice in the blood of my enemies, but not of my people. The shirts will provide a second layer of protection.”

She then asked Greyworm to come forward. “ I trust you are skilled with a bow and arrow?” she asked expectantly.

“I am, my Queen.” Greyworm then pointed to the mounted pig dressed in armor and silk that had been placed at the balcony. “ Should I ?”

Daenerys nodded.  _ I hope this works _ . She had no time to procure spider´s silk and doubted acromantula was a thing in this world, so simple quality silk was all she had to offer.

The arrow hit the target with a thud and everyone held their breaths as Daenerys turned to her left and addressed the ugly man dressed in grey that was sitting near the dornish knights.  “ Archmaester Marwyn, could you please examine the wound and tell us your findings?”

The strange-looking man did not need to be told twice. Marwyn was, above all, a man of science- he was more than curious to see where exactly the Dragon Queen was going with such an experiment.

Marwyn carefully retrieved the arrow from the insides of the pig and smiled. __

“Your Grace, the silk acted as a second layer of protection, and enveloped the tip of the arrow, making the wound easier to be treated and not near as fatal as it could have been. “

Internally, Daenerys breathed in relief; externally though, she had to keep the facade of the most wise, self-assured, regal Targaryen Queen, as if she had knew it all along.

“ Rhakaro, I believe you understand now why I must insist my bloodriders wear my gifts when in battle ?”

The Unsullied new gear was also discussed: cargo pants, a sturdier version of the Dothraki breastplate and the ergonomic backpack Daenerys had designed that was to be organized with enough provisions and other essentials as to make their trek from one battle to another less energy-consuming. 

“The masks should not be forgotten. It is entirely possible we will come to find a great deal of destruction not only brought by war, but also by disease. The masks should offer some level of protection against maladies.”

Then it came the second experiment of the day, less dramatic, but perhaps more important: the kitchens claimed they had perfected the homemade powdered stock recipe Daenerys had passed to them, so the Queen gave orders for the broth to be served during the meeting with bread and diluted wine, asking for everybody´s opinion.

The novelty food received an overwhelming approval.

The meeting dragged for another half an hour before it could finally be adjourned. Daenerys was exhausted. But she pressed forward and continued to work with barely any respite until supper was served.

Only then, two days before they were to sail, Daenerys finally addressed the man she so successfully had managed to avoid:

“My Lord Tyrion, I would like a word---”

***

When Daenerys returned to her private chambers, she found Aurane sitting by himself, a feather in one hand, a pipe on the other: 

“It took longer than I thought it would…” the silver-haired man commented almost absently minded, a small cloud of smoke partially covering his features.

Daenerys  _ knew _ that smell.

“ What is it called- the blend you smoke ?”

“In the Stepstones, this is called sailor´s grass. “ Aurane replied as Daenerys took a seat on his lap, a playful smile on her lips. “ In Volantis, they sell a stronger, greasier version.”

Aurane added that the herb originated from the Summer Islands and went on to describe how it looked like and its effects. “ I smoke when I need the inspiration to write the journal, which is not that often. It is unbecoming.”

The image of a high as a kite pirate planted a smile on Daenerys lips for a second, before she remembered the reality was another thing entirely: there was one very high, very dangerous pirate out there already, one with an unhealthy obsession over dragons, Valyria and her specifically. 

_ Euron...and I still have to deal with Euron fucking Greyjoy. _

Gods be good, it would be a fast and decisive victory in her favor. Krakens were animals best left undisturbed.

“I read it once that plant has many uses. I believe paper- _ parchment _ \- can be produced from it, and also fabric. One of the byproducts works well as house isolation, because it absorbs moisture, if I am not mistaken.”

By then, Aurane had placed the pipe on the ashtray, his hands caressing certain areas of Daenerys body. “ The extent of your readings and knowledge is immense.” The kiss he gave her was heavy and it tasted salty, like a punch to her senses- it had been a long time since she had come near hashish and it showed on her slightly red eyes.

“About the meeting-” Aurane said suddenly as Daenerys halted the kiss to gasp for some air. “ You should not trust the Imp.”

This surprised Daenerys. Aurane had only provided her with advice when he was directly asked to do so. 

She was less than pleased by such a turn. The last thing Daenerys wanted on her mind as she prepared to take her lover to bed was Tyrion Lannister.

Aurane´s powers of observations, however, seemed to have evaporated with the hallucinogenic smoke: “I trust this does not come as a surprise. You must find a way to use him, I know. He is, after all, a Lannister, and they always pay his debts. A good investment to have a rich man as himself owing you a favor or two.”

“The meeting went well.” Daenerys replied in a monotone. “ I praised all his efforts, commended him on his intelligence, gifted him with clothes befitting his new position a---”

“New position?” Aurane questioned. “ A promotion?”

“ _ Naturally _ .” Tyrion Lannister was gifted with an ambassadorship, “ the herald of dragons” as Daenerys named it. “ I reminded him he is a fugitive, a kinslayer and a man distrusted by a large portion of the nobility. He is not to join us when we first sail to Westeros, but only at a later stage. His first assignment will be announced once we deal with Volantis, and only after he completes his mission, he is to join our campaign.”

“Are you , perchance, sending the Imp on an unfeasible quest?”

This had been a possibility, yes, but Daenerys would have been a fool not to use the tools at her disposal. “ Hardly- it is actually of vital importance to my plans, and something he very likely will be successful at.”

Considering the unsavory subject properly discussed, Daenerys nibbed sensually on Aurane´s pierced left ear, thus initiating a long night of passionate lovemaking.

***

There was an official ceremony of investiture of the new Meereenese Council on the morning of Daenerys fleet departure. From now on, she would no longer directly interfere in the politics of Meereen. The city would be her ally, not her domain. 

They had trained soldiers to protect them, enough food to ration between their inhabitants and the pale mare was no longer threatening to wipe out a good portion of their population…

The rest, Daenerys concluded, it would come with time.

She embarked on the dromond captained by Aurane and looked as Meereen slowly faded on the horizon.

She took a deep breath.

_ It is done- it is done _ .

The salt winds of the seas gently brushed her cheeks; in the skies, Daenerys heard her children singing.

She was at peace.

“You are smiling- a rare sight.” Aurane remarked as he came closer, landing his right hand on her shoulders in a side embrace. “ You are glad to leave.”

“No, I am glad to be  _ here. _ ” She pointed at the boat, at the blue sea, at the skies. “ feeling the wind, tasting the salt…”

“It is your Velaryon blood.” Aurane remarked with a faint smile. “ I know how it feels. The freedom of the seas...the calling…”

“When I was young and knew little of the world, I wanted to be a sailor.” 

At this, Aurane laughed. “ There is still time “ he said jokingly. “ and you have strong arms and even stronger legs…”

***

With the Dothraki hordes relentlessly attacking the Volantane hinterlands and the enthusiastic approval to her campaign by the population outside the Black Walls,Daenerys threat of torching the walls if they would not surrender by the end of the day was enough to force the Old Blood to reconsider their instances on slavery.

The negotiations that followed were, granted, much more productive and agreeable than the ones Daenerys conducted with the former Slave Masters of Dragon´s Bay..

“We know when to pick our battles.” The tiger Triarch said between nibbling a tray of delicate cheeses and drinking spiced tea. “ You have come a long way since the days you were but a child walking two steps after your brother, Your Radiance. We heard the tales of what you can do with your dragons. No need to be told twice.”

Daenerys nodded in silent recognition, then took a sip at the notoriously sweet volantene wine, served on a long flute. 

The man, Malaquo Maegyr, had known her as a child, his family being one of many that welcomed the dethroned royals at first, only closing their doors months later, when their presence ceased to amuse them.

Maegyr was a practical, subtle man. His reminding Daenerys of her past poverty was not a move designed to shame her- quite the contrary. What he was doing was merely recognizing the strength and might before her, an admittance he knew best then to cross her.

When the terms were finally agreed, the Triarch kept their word: they opened the Gates and Daenerys crossed the long bridge with her troops.

The transition to the new Regimen started immediately.

As the Old Blood wisely refused to follow the example of the “Wise” Masters of Astapor and surrendered, Volantis would not be remade anew. It was a completely different approach to what had been accomplished in Meereen, and to make it work permanently, they would need to forge new alliances to enforce the terms were met.

“You, my Lord Tyrion, are to sail immediately, your final destination being Braavos.” As a Free City founded by former slaves and the most important economy of the continent, Braavos was a natural ally in the fight against slavery. “You are to carry my banners and speak in my stead.As my herald, you will visit the Free Cities on the way to Braavos, and tell them of my victories. As my Ambassador, you will meet with the Sealord. He is to be presented with a copy of the terms of Volantis surrender and a letter by my own hand. Your mission is to convince Braavos to extend their blockade to the other Free Cities, and to offer their technical support to Volantis in this delicate transition, for I shall not tarry, nor here, nor anywhere...”

This was music to Tyrion´s ears and Daenerys could see the wheels spinning inside his head. “Nor you should, Your Grace. Your land suffers under false Kings- Westeros  _ needs _ you.”

Daenerys could have scowled at the proclamation but held her composure.

Politically speaking, what Westeros needed was not yet another claimant to the Throne...

But her return, Daenerys reminded herself, was not about retaking a throne she cared less and less as the days passed. The Iron throne was just the first step in the war against the true enemy- the cold. -

No, Daenerys would not tarry in Volantis because the White Walkers were real and the only ones interested in fighting them were a bunch of Night´s watchmen and the surviving members of the Free Folk that had crossed south.

“ I am pleased you feel so strongly about this issue, my Lord Tyrion, because your assistance will be vital to my plans of regaining what has been taken from me.”

Tyrion listened attentively as Daenerys laid out her intentions. Ser Barristan, also present, had been but vaguely aware of the plan so far, asking a couple of pertinent questions, questions the Queen answered with ease and confidence.

“So, in other words, as your Ambassador, I am not only to negotiate the outstanding debts the Crown has incurred so far, but also, I will attempt to buy the debts of Lord Stannis Baratheon and...the debts of the Night's Watch, if there is any?”

The last part was what confused the knight and the dwarf both. The Night's Watch debt was not exactly common knowledge and the idea the Iron Bank would actually be interested in extending loans to such institutions would barely cross the mind of two nobles who knew very little of how banks operated.

They looked at Daenerys expectantly- and she was more than happy to quench their thirst:

“Other than the Crown, there are three major institutions in Westeros : the Citadel, the Faith and the Night´sWatch. The reason why I am interested in purchasing any loans the Iron Bank has extended to the Night's Watch is because I do not believe The Citadel and The Faith are in dire straits- they are not only richly compensated by the nobles for their services, but they can also count with the patronage of the Hightowers.” 

This observation alone was all that Tyrion needed to understand the point Daenerys was trying to make: 

“ The North reveres the Night's Watch and, traditionally, the Starks were their major patrons. Since Stannis Baratheon went North, backed up by the Iron Bank, is indeed possible he extended some of his good luck to the Night's Watch in a bid to buy some credibility among the notoriously isolationist northern Lords.”

A disabled noble in a world of knights and damsels in distress, Tyrion Lannister thrived in this sort of palace´s intrigues. Daenerys was completely aware of the fact nobody in her confidence had the same set of skills the dwarf had- and she was fine with it. No man, or woman, talented in the courtier games could be trusted one hundred percent in her opinion, and Tyrion Lannister would not be different.

But besides his silver tongue, Tyrion Lannister had even more to offer to Daenerys, and she was intent in seeing all this potential not go to waste: 

“ Now, before you are to sail, my Lord Tyrion, I would ask you to meet with Greyworm, Ser Jorah, Rhakaro and Jhoquo and go through the escape routes you say Lord Varys used to whisk you out of the Red Keep.”

***

Daenerys had invited Archmaester Marwyn to break their fasts on the fourth day of their stay, ostensibly to discuss his efforts in compiling dragonlore from the Volantene libraries, but also to tackle on a much more urgent subject:

“While it is too early to have a formed opinion on the matter, Your Grace, taking into consideration your normal, almost prosaic past two cycles, I dare say there is nothing preventing you from being with child in the near future.”

Marwyn, as indifferent to prophecies as Daenerys was, relied on equal doses of common sense and his knowledge of ancient magic to reach this conclusion:

“There is a reason only ignorant peasants and greedy nobles would force a bride to consummate a marriage before her fifteenth name day, Your Grace- you were not prepared then, but you can be prepared soon if your health continues to improve.”

“I tend to agree with your assessment, but I do need to know with certainty...for two full years, my cycle was no more regular than rain on a desert.”

Every woman was different, Marwyn said. He was not specialized in Healing, but had a real talent for practice and practical observation. The Maester postulated that Daenerys' body reacted to the dragons as if they were triplets from her own flesh and blood. Her womb took longer to recover because the trauma had been too big. Not to mention, the stimulus of motherhood was known to affect women in such ways, a natural prevention for successive pregnancies,

“You lost a child and gained three...they drank from your breasts, you said yourself. “

As for the curse...Marwyn doubted it had ever come to exist : “You were but a young girl. I can only suppose the harsh words of a witch would cause your mind great pain and distress, and these things are known to have negative effects over the body.”

Regardless, Marwyn said, they needed a couple more months of regular periods to be certain

Realistically speaking, though, Marwyn was also preparing for another scenario: “ If things develop in unexpected ways, I have learned a great deal from both the Red Priest and the First Sorcerer, Your Grace. I believe you heard the rumors about how Queen Visenya managed to conceive?”

_ Oh, really? _

“If what they say is true about Magic, that only death can pay for life, I rather not have to contend with a Magor reborn, Archmaester. “

This brought a smile on Marwyn´s old, ugly face. “I have a suspicion any child born out of Visenya, conceived through Magic or not, would have an uncanny talent for violence and destruction, Your Grace, and you have, by far much gentler heart than the warrior queen was reported to have had.”

The knowledge that at least one man thought Daenerys could succeed where Visenya had failed- into rearing an unruly child into becoming a fair adult- was more than comforting.

She was almost touched by the remark.

However, the lightness in which they were conducting this conversation made Daenerys' mind take an unexpected turn.

As they discussed the news coming from Westeros - greyscale and a pox, a mysterious prince nobody had heard or seen- Daenerys focused on what she knew about the Conqueror´s sisters. 

Visenya, like Daenerys, was thought to be sterile, only conceiving later in life once Rhaenys had died and Aegon was at his lowest.

And Rhaenys, with her love of music and games, was considered a flirt. Her son, Aenys, had not resembled Aegon either in looks or temperament, with many believing he was the son of a minstrel or of a lowborn soldier.n

It occurred to Daenerys how those tidbits of gossip were all about the women, never the man. But, if the rumors were true, then the root of the problem was definitely not on Rhaenys nor Visenya- they both managed to have sons.

Maybe the problem had been Aegon´s all along, and this forced both women to take desperate measures in order to conceive.

Daenerys would have laughed. There she was, discussing fertility rituals to enhance her chances...and the problem might be not with her, but with her apparently future husband.

Would a resurrected man be capable of fathering children?

Daenerys could hardly voice this question directly.

“You speak about Visenya, but you forget Aegon and Rhaenys. What if the years pass and the problem is not mine, but my Lord Husband´s....”

“Your Grace, pardon my forwardness, but they were brothers and sisters before they were husband and wives. Whatever they did, they did it with full consent and knowledge, Your Grace. The situation you speak of, it can very well happen, but you should not count on a Westerosi lord you barely know admitting to be the source of said problem. We must find another way and you must keep your secrets secret.”

_ Well, trust Marwyn to get the hints _ .

“ I must thank you for your candor, Archmaester....but, leaving this delicate subject behind, regarding that other problem we discussed…”

Marwyn paused, sipped on the sweet wine, making a face of disapproval, before wiping his mouth with an embroidered cloth napkin. “There is a way, yes- but, are you sure you would find powers that strong when visiting The North?”

Who could possibly know? Daenerys barely trusted the version of events she had had access to- but she was unwilling to place her bets:

“Better be wrong than sorry, Archmaester- better be wrong than sorry. “

***

Daenerys and her Court attended religious ceremonies both at the Red Temple and the Valyrian Gods Shrine at first light. Then, they joined a procession that went from one extreme of to the other, where she summoned Drogon from the skies to light a great pyre at the center of the square.

She also received a fine piece of silk from the learned men of the City. They had, per her instructions, cut the fabric the closest  they could get from 1/100 of the distance from the North Gate of the Black Wall to the South Gate.

Nobody understood Daenerys' excitement over the cloth. 

When Daenerys finally made it back to the gardens of the Great Shrine of Balerion, she was ravenous. 

“Everything is so sweet!” Missandei exclaimed after the second entry- cold beet soup- had been served. “Not only the wine-  _ everything _ !”

“You should try some oranges and spices to break the sweetness, my friend.” Daenerys liked the soup well enough, but would stick to the fruits and warm flatbread from then on- no need to stuff her face in all that grease and sugar, she would rather avoid cavities and excessive weight gain, thank you very much.

She scattered the room looking for the familiar faces of her entourage. She found Aurane close by the sparkling wine fountain, in deep conversation with two of the three triarchs- Maegyr and Vassar. 

Ser Jorah too was enjoying the attention of the local nobility.  _ I hope he finds a bride soon enough- I would be more comfortable with less leering _ . 

Ser Barristan stuck by his eclectic group of soldiers and squires, Strong Belwas obviously making the greatest impression among them.

When her formal obligations had all been met, Daenerys disentangled herself from the social gathering. She desperately wanted to fly, eager to find a place of her youth she so wished to revisit.

Despite Volantis being close to the ocean, the air was hot and humid. Although warm climates agreed with her, Daenerys found the agglomeration of people less than pleasant.

She longed for a respite, for the simple pleasure of enjoying a beautiful day.

So, Daenerys went- and took Aurane with her. 

***

They flew together for the first time that day. The locals did not seem to mind this breach of protocol as much as the westerosi. Daenerys was not sure, but she thought she saw Ser Barristan wincing at the scene.

_ No matter _ . We are not in Westeros. 

_ Not yet...not yet... _

They came by a field of wildflowers on the banks of Volaena, on the way to Volon Therys.

“Hold tight- we are to land.”

They saw a tree large enough to make a sizable shadow atop a small mound. There, Aurane sat comfortably and watched Drogon join his brothers in their beautiful dance, with Daenerys busily collecting flowers.

She returned with her hands full, sitting by his side. She then weaved the flowers together, making two crowns- one for her, one for him. 

Behind Daenerys, the Sun started setting. She could see in his grey green eyes the warm light lifting up his features- he was happy.

Genuinely happy at being there- with her.

His beard was trimmed and, this close, he looked very pretty, almost feminine.

They kissed and when the kiss was over, they looked at each other like it had been the first time and no word was spoken.

In silence, they laid down, side by side, trying to articulate that moment.

Difficult as it was, they chose not to deny it.

_ I love you. _

Aurane was no hero. He was not even a good man by westerosi standards- a bastard, a pirate, an arriviste.

But he was hers and she was his and…

_ This was not what was supposed to happen, wasn´ t ? _

“The Triarchs, they want you to stay...they do care about losing slaves, but they see it as a fair price to pay if they are to become the center of your Empire.”

“ _ I cannot stay _ .” Daenerys said in a low voice, the full moon making her hair look even brighter. “ I must go- I must.”

“You care not about the Throne. You said it yourself. You care about the slaves, your people. Braavos is a good ally to have, but you lived in Pentos. They pay lip service to the braavosi. Their servants are slaves in all but name.”

_ Yes, but there were no dragons before. I will be just a flight away from torching slavers if they do not heed my words.  _

“ I can return many times, but I cannot stay. I am the beginning, not the end of this. The sparkle. “

“We can be together. We can marry...have children...all the things you care about.”

_ Yes, I know.  _ “ They are using you. They would make something happen to you and have me marry their sons.”

Aurane scoffed. “ Of course they are using me! Of course they do not care about me, personally. I do not blame them. I am still a bastard. My father is dead, my mother, dead long before him...even my stupid half brother is dead because of that stupid war and that insipid boy of his is Lord of Tides. You go to Westeros, and I will lose you too. I do not want that. I am selfish, I know...but I love you.”

“My love…” Daenerys started, turning her body towards Aurane´s, to face him as they spoke. _ He loves me and what can I say? _ Aurane was right. The Iron Throne meant nothing to her. She had been struggling with this sentiment for a long time now and in this moment, she realized how much sailing to Westeros would cost her.

A man who really loved her- a flawed, broken man who would kill, lie and betray just to stay with her.

A man whose heart was neither pure or innocent, whose interests were borderline selfish...but a man who loved her above all else.

What use could she have for a hero, whose most heroic act could very well be the ritualistic murder of her?

She could give Aurane thousands of political practical reasons they could not be together in the way they both wanted...but she chose not to.

For better or for worse, Daenerys would tell him the truth. 

“You believe in Magic- you saw the dragons. You know I am no ordinary woman...what I am about to tell, Aurane, is how extraordinary I truly am.”

***

The day before their departure, Daenerys and Aurane sat for three hours while two artists worked on matching tattoos they would forever carry on their left wrists.

“It looks...very  _ distinct _ . “ Aurane was used to both the literal renderings of sailor tattoos and the small markings of volantene slaves. He had agreed to the three stylized dragons Daenerys proposed, but it would take some time for him to find the appeal.

“ Let it set- you will like it, I am sure.” Daenerys then pointed out to the bottom half of her head, which had been shaved at her orders, the other half kept as long as before, braided in eight different ways and kept on a tight, high ponytail. “ You also found this haircut strange at first and now you like it.”

“I like you spending more time with me than with Irri and hair braiding fingers.”

“You have no reason to be jealous.” The fling with Irri had never  _ really _ happened, Daenerys assured him, but Aurane remained unconvinced. “Men are the same anywhere...fantasizing about pillow fights and the likes.”

“Pillow fights?”

Daenerys then pointed to the jewel adorning Aurane´s forehead. “ Fine: you dislike the tattoo and my hairstyle, but you walk everywhere wearing the circles of the Dragon Court, so at least one thing I did you like, yes?”

The obsession with Middle Earth had just gotten stronger in Volantis. The Old Blood dressed in a way that slightly resembles the elves fashion´s. Daenerys renderings, in her opinion, were far superior, but the volantene dresses, more adapted to the tropical weather they lived in, had its own charm, and their jewelry, which tended to be more understated than she had anticipated, was also of great quality

Gold, silver and stones were aplenty, and the craftsmen in Volantis eager for royal commissions. As her wealth and victories piled up, Daenerys extended even more gifts and rewards to her Dragon Court, which she hoped would be quite the sight in Westeros.

She would not allow any noble to look down upon the former slaves and the Dothraki that followed. They would be dressed not only for practicality but to impress, with the circlets marking the best among the best.

“I like everything you do, my heart.” Aurane said in his smooth voice, making Daenerys swoon a bit. “ But I just happen to like some things more than others.”

***

Daenerys Armada sailed from Volantis, to Lys, then Tyrosh, Myr, finally arriving at Pentos by the end of the month. She had sent her herald- Tyrion- before her, and the visits were short and meant only to force the Free Cities to choose wisely and freely their destiny- or to perish in this new world.

She did not find Illyrio, nor the sword he supposedly held. His Manse was deserted, not even a servant to guard the building.

They sailed two days after they arrived.

The proximity to Westeros unnerved her. She cried herself to sleep in Aurane´s arms, waking up an hour later, with a scream.

She had dreamed.

“What is it?” Aurane asked in confusion.

A dream, she answered...no, not a dream, a vision.

“ I need to go. “

Missandei woke up and watched as Daenerys wrote a couple of letters addressing her advisors.

“ I am to fly on a scouting mission, you tell them. I will meet them in three days' time, at Dragonstone. They are to retake the island in my name, using whatever tactic they think it is best. Once I return, I will fly to Dorne, meet the Prince and pay my respects. Send a couple of dromonds to guard the return of the Dornish to their land.”

Drogon came at once. Daenerys had climbed one of the posts and managed to jump on the dragon, to the horror of the crew beneath her.

She then disappeared into the night.

***

Jon Snow took to sleep in his former chambers at Winterfell, its liberation accomplished but a sennight past.

Ghost was by his side- and so was Val. She joined his party not longer after he left and in two days, they caught up with the Red Priestess and Queen Selyse, who should have been thankful for the added protection Jon offered, but appeared to be only slightly annoyed by his presence.

They arrived at Winterfell to find the place being besieged. King Stannis had been wounded by the bastard´s arrow. He looked ghastly, pale and unwell, but he moved on.

Melissandre, he said, had seen his victory- Winterfell would be theirs by the end of that week.

And so it was. Roose Bolton was no match for Stannis. But Stannis did not live to celebrate the victory.

He fell into a deep slumber and had been in this state for the past days.

Sansa, Jon´s half sister, arrived the day before their victory- and seemed to be under the impression that her and the small army she brought from The Vale had been the cause of their fortune.

She was, as with many things, wrong.

However, it was not Sansa´s fertile imagination that had Jon awake from his notoriously fickle and short sleep this time around- something much more ominous had just happened..

“What is it?” Val asked in a concerned voice

“ _ Dragons _ .” Jon replied. “ I dreamed of dragons.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments from butthurt, tag nazis, fake jonerys lovers that are demeaning, use low language, are insulting or open the door for harassment will be deleted.


	4. First meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Jon, The North and their own little games before sailing south, where Daenerys and Aurane are forced to embark on a new phase of their relationship, but not without some people getting what they deserve and others, getting what they need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, you will notice, especially on the first part of the Daenerys section, that I seem to be covering way too much, and she is jumping from one place to another. This is not GoT, so she does not have LF powers of teleportation.
> 
> What happens is, she has a dragon, she is making use of this dragon, later on, you will see some time has passed and what she has been doing behind the scenes will be addressed next chapter, when we continue dealing with the re- conquest.
> 
> Plus: edited and checked for grammar twice. typos might abound. Apologies.

It was a cold and moonless night. Not even the stars could be seen, hidden as they were behind the deep, black curtains of winter clouds.

“Only Death can pay for life.”

This was not her will, but her Lord´s. 

The King was dead, but soon, he would return.

“The One that was Promised will rise again. The Defeater of Darkness; The Bringer of Light! The Lord of Light will deliver us our Champion! Our purest, most noble sacrifice will deliver us our Champion!”

The child screamed, cried, begged.

“ Mother, mother- help me!”

The Queen remained silent. Soon, her daughter´s voice would be forever silenced, but the choice had been made. The sacrifice was great because the reward would be even greater.

Her King would require more than a simple kiss. He was not of the cold- he was the champion of fire and from the fire, he would be reborn.

Two soldiers came forward with the young woman who knew better than to beg. Her brother, however, threw himself at the sorcerer´s feet, sobbing uncontrollably.

The sorceress had no time to pay him any mind. A sudden wind, harsh and sharp, attacked her. Her chest heavy, the red woman closed her eyes and gasped for air. 

When she finally managed to inhale, the air tasted like ashes.

The black sky was now crimson red and the hot winds came in waves...coming and going and coming and going until Melisandre fell to her knees. 

First the child, then the young woman, both pulled away from the pyre. Her brother, stabbed by the soldiers guarding him, while the Queen screamed in agony, her dress in flames.

Despite the confusion, the chaos and the burning, Melisandre could see one thing and one thing only: the dragon.

“ Fire made Flesh.” she murmured like a prayer.

Atop the flaming sword of R´hlor, a silver haired woman. Her violet eyes crossed Melisandre´s for a brief moment, and she addressed the sorceress for the first and probably last time ,before the dragon disappeared in the skies.

“The Fire is mine.”

***

“Jon, The North should not have to deal with _this_.”

Sansa used her courtesies well when in the presence of Queen Selyse and the Red woman, but once safely tucked inside her late mother's study, she allowed the mask of politeness to fall. In these occasions, the young woman took to speaking to Jon as if there had always been between them more than the strenuous familiarity dispensed to a brother she never really cared to acknowledge until then.

Jon , while glad Sansa took an active interest in the managing of the Keep, would not allow his sister to endanger a still standing alliance by placing their guests in unnecessary peril. 

“They barely made it to Winterfell, Sansa. Her Grace will not admit it, but she owes us her life. We rescued them from a blizzard, kept them on the right track and shared the food we foraged.” 

“Moreover “ Jon remarked, “ it is only a matter of time until they can leave in peace.” The Northern Council would gather soon. Lord Manderley had already confirmed Ser Davos would join them. The situation, volatile as it was, would not remain the same for much longer.

Allowing Stannis' widow and heiress to leave in the middle of winter was the opposite of what they were supposed to be doing.

“The Red woman has the Queen´s ears and there is nothing we can do about it. If they leave, we have less mouths to feed and we avoid any sort of political embarrassment to the last of the Baratheons.”

Jon understood this made sense for Sansa. She was, after all, Ned Stark´s only trueborn living child. King Stannis had died leaving clear instructions to his men, most of them stationed at Winterfell and Wintertown, to fight for his daughter´s claim.

The North owed them a debt- a debt Queen Selyse could not hope to collect if she was not present during the Northern Council to remind them of the alliance.

Before he would say something he would probably regret, Jon left...and went straight to the Red woman´s chambers.

***

Since their arrival, Melisandre kept to herself, which suited Jon just fine.

The least being said about his last days at the Night's watch, the better.

But Jon did not come unprepared. He took more than some wildlings with him to Winterfell. No deserter would be allowed to travel this far without being questioned. Jon carried with him two things of great importance, one being the letter from the new Lord Commander, authorizing him to speak on Night´s Watch behalf on a temporary leave basis- which would become permanent as soon as he accomplished his goals.

Jon had always wanted Winterfell, but being a bastard, he knew it wasn't meant for him. The Boltons had fallen and Sansa had returned. Jon had pushed for the Northern Council mostly because the Lords needed to know about the true threat. He had the means to convince them, and the succession for Winterfell just offered him the opportunity to do so. 

Robb was dead, without heirs, as were Brandon and Rickon.

And Arya...nobody heard of her…

There was nothing to be done. Jeyne had suffered in his little sister´s place and Sansa was the last of Ned Stark´s line.

Regardless, Jon would make certain the Lords were not to lose time over imaginary problems Sansa´s lack of tact would create: 

“ My Lady Melisandre, if we could have a word.”

“ _Certainly_.”

***

One would assume the natural death of a prophesied hero would leave his most fervent follower mad with grief.

One would assume wrong: Melisandre looked nothing if not her usual self.

“ I just spoke with my sister, she mentioned Her Grace Queen Selyse plans to leave. I am here to beg you to change your mind and wait for Ser Davos return.”

Melisandre seemed slightly upset at the mention of Ser Davos. Jon remembered they were often on opposite ends when it came to advising Stannis, but certainly, this would no longer be a problem for her, especially when she still had the favor of Selyse Baratheon.

“I believe your Lady sister misunderstood our intentions, my Lord. We only need a day or two away from Winterfell, to follow our last rites in honor of King Stannis.”

“Why not here, my Lady? We keep faith with the Old Gods, but we also have a Sept- we would not be opposed to a funeral in the ways of your faith.”

“ _Impossible_ .” Melisandre said emphatically. “ We need a fire too large and skies too open. The only place here that could... _accommodate_ us would be the godswood- but I remember your answer at my request to burn the trees.”

_Never._

“ I see. Then it is settled. Only for a day, or two you said? Do you need men, supplies? I know I am no follower of R´lhor, but I admired His Grace and ---”

“Thank you, my Lord Snow, but attendance is strictly for those touched by the Lord of Light.” Melisande then reached out to Jon, grabbing his exposed hand.

“ You are--- _cold_.”

“ Aye, colder, yes. Not by a great margin, but colder.”

Jon snatched her hand in such a manner Melisandre grasped, releasing it in the air without much care for niceties.

“Make sure to return, my Lady.”

***

He took Val even harder that night. Not for the first time, the blond woman remarked on Jon´s less than gentle bed manners.

“What is it with you? I will not be able to sit in the morrow…”

“Apologies. If you are sore, go to the pools.”

Jon stood up, searching for his small clothes.

He had no need for sleep.

“Are you leaving?” Val asked from the bed as she watched Jon walking away. 

He could barely sleep, hardly eat nor drink- he did not feel the need to pretend, especially not with Val- but since they shared a bed and he cared for her, she was deserving of answers. 

“ You know I am far from tired, Val. You stay in and sleep. I need the cold air. “

***

Jon took his regular seat with the free folk members stationed inside the Castle Walls. He would nib some warm bread, sip some beer, and speak with his men. Val had gone to Wintertown, to visit her brother in law. Jon had quietly arranged for Raider to take up residence there instead of Winterfell as the situation in the North was still too uncertain for the King Beyond The Wall presence to be revealed.

Jon himself had no reason to stay other than to alert the Lords of the true threat and assist the Night's Watch the best he could. There were benefits in cheating death, he mused. He would barely have any expenses with food and drink. 

He could travel the world, mayhaps even join a sellsword company in Essos…

_Once I am done here…_

Jon´s thoughts were broken when Val arrived...with Gilly no less. 

“ More than time to swap the brats back, Lord Snow.”

Little Sam was being cared for by a scullery maid at the moment. Jon only needed a couple of seconds to recover from the shock. He personally escorted both women to the kitchens, where Gilly was finally reunited with her babe.

Only then Jon asked about Sam.

” Is he waiting for you at Wintertown?”

“No” the woman replied in a soft tone. “ He is at The Citadel. We stayed at Horn Hill but for a night.”

Given what Jon knew of Samwell´s father, it had been a great oversight on his part to believe Gilly would be welcomed at his ancestral home. _Especially with a bastard in her arms._

A Lovely lady his mother could be, but she knew her husband.

Lady Tarly saw that Gilly was escorted all the way North by two knights she trusted, cutting through the Riverlands with great speed, a safe-conduct in their hands- Lord Tarly was a man of great power, particularly now the Lannisters and the Tyrells were fighting each other.

“Wintertown is a better place for you, Gilly.”

It was easy to convince Mance to take the young woman and her child in. Since Dalla died, Gilly had taken care of little Aemon at The Wall- until Jon sent them away and swapped the babes.

Not his most noble moment, Jon mused.

Having settled the issue, Jon said his goodbyes, promising he would keep Mance well appraised of the situation at Winterfell. 

Despite the family reunion, Val chose to follow Jon back to the castle: “ Brats are good for an hour or two.” She then added with a smirk. “ I like sharing my warmth with you, Lord Commander...especially when you are not as rough as last night.

“If I displease you, Val…”

The blond woman shushed him. “ I can take care of myself.”

When they finally arrived at Winterfell, Jon was informed Queen Selyse´s party had departed for her Husband's funeral.

***

Jon did not go to bed that night.

Ghost had been acting out since they came back from Wintertown, a mirror to Jon´s uneasiness. He also was afraid of losing control if he was to fuck Val in this state of mind, so to the wilds he went...

But instead of experiencing the freedom of the woods, this night only brought Jon a mixture of dread and terror

When the skies bled and he heard the cries, Jon ran.

***

The whole Castle awoke with the commotion.

Jon arrived carrying an unconscious Queen Selyse in his arms and but a fraction of the Baratheon soldiers returned.

After giving orders for the Maester to take the wounded to the Crypts, leaving only the most critical cases to be treated at the main building, Sansa was about to return to her chambers when Jon told her that Theon´s body had also been found.

This news stopped Sansa dead on her tracks.

“ Theon?” she asked, confused. “ I---I did not know he was here?”

“He was.” Jon replied in a monotone. “ A prisoner of the King.” 

Sansa had never asked about the prisoners and Jon had never told her. 

He found it odd that Sansa showed this much emotion for a man who had murdered their brothers. Would she have believed him then? Then, half-mad, looking twice his age, told Jon their brothers had run away, that he never killed them.

“ The Miller´s boys...I killed the miller´s boys...

Jon wanted to believe Theon, but after the lie about Arya...he did not know _what_ to believe in anymore. 

“Go to bed, Sansa- I can take it from here. “

Sansa nodded, face flushed.

“ Yes---thank you, Jon. I know I can count on you. “

***

“Is Her Grace going to recover? Did she say anything about the Princess?”

Maester Wolkan´s resigned expression said enough.

“ Her Grace is coughing blood...she inhaled too much of the smoke and the left side of her body is a ruin. “

_She either jumped in the pyre or Melisandre tried to sacrifice her before something went wrong._

“ What about the Princess? And the Lady Melisandre?”

“Her Grace said a woman took her daughter and flew away with her...she is delirious, my Lord...she is on her deathbed.”

_I need some answers...Ser Davos will want to know._

“ Could you give her something for her pain? Mayhaps she can speak…”

“My Lord. “ The Maester interrupted Jon in the most polite way. “ Her Grace will not survive the night...she calls for a Septon.”

Queen Selyse renouncing the Lord of Light? _Melisandre tried to burn her then...mayhaps even her child…_

” I will speak with the Valemen...they should have a Septon among them.”

It was Jon's last act of mercy towards the Baratheon Queen. Like the maester predicted, Selyse died from her wounds that same night, never regaining conscience.

***

By late night in the next day, all the expected Lords had arrived -Ser Davos among them. 

As the contingent from White Harbour had been the last, they were all welcomed and assigned rooms by the steward and the servants, Lady Sansa having retired to her chambers right after supper.

Jon decided the news could not wait much longer and went to find Davor, knocking on his door minutes later.

The man listened to the tale in silence, allowing Jon to finish it without interruption. 

“ So, Princess Shireen was saved? She did not burn in the pyre?”

“We did not find her bones, only of her Kingly Father; Her mother herself was partially burned and died swearing Princess Shireen flew away with a woman. Melisandre disappeared; so did Lady Asha Greyjoy, who was being kept prisoner. Most of the men deserted...we do not have the means to go after each and every one of them, but we did speak with some we captured. They all say the same thing: a dragon lit the pyre and took the Princess away.”

“ _A dragon?_ ” Davos Seaworth had never placed stock in the words of Melisandre; he never truly believed Stannis was the hero she prophesied, that he would wake dragons out of stones... but Davos knew her ways, her magic and her belief in the power of King's blood.

“She would have the Princess burn for her Father to be reborn. The more, the better...this Lady Asha- her Lord Father had just declared himself King. and a dragon...a woman…” 

Davos paused, trying to absorb all the information.

“ The sailors tell tales of a Dragon Queen in the East...a _Targaryen_ Queen...the babe Stannis was sent to kill in the cradle. But this .. _.how?_ ”

“ _Dragons are real._ “ Jon said in a low tone. “ _I know it_ . We need them- for the war. _The real war_. If she wanted the Princess dead, she would have burnt her, not rescued her.”

Jon almost bit his tongue. Was he giving Ser Davos false hopes? Mayhaps.

But something was telling him he was right.

“Yes, born amidst salt and smoke...Melisandre went to Dragonstone and found Stannis...but the girl had been there before…”

Both men did not sleep that night. Jon, because he barely needed more than a couple of hours; Davos because his world had turned upside down.

Rickon was alive, but refused to return. His direwolf was as large as a horse, and Lord Magnar of Kingshouse had adopted him as his heir, to be married to his daughter. He called the free woman Osha mother, had no memories of any Starks other than Bran, and was learning the runic transcript rather than the Common alphabet.

“ I tell you this in confidence, Jon. to Lord Manderley, I explained I only heard the rumours on the island, but saw nothing of Rickon. The lad is scared of returning- I could not persuade him. Mayhaps later you can visit him...but if you ask me, you should leave Rickon where he is.”

Brandon and the Reed children had gone Beyond the Wall, to a cave.

_Another reason to have the Lords fight the war they should be fighting._

As luck would have it, the first face Jon and Davos saw in the morning was of Howland Reed. They took the crannogman aside- as a father or Lord Jojen and Lady Meera, both felt he deserved to know their possible whereabouts.

“ We will rescue them, My Lord- I give you my word we will try.” turning to Davos, Jon added. “ the Princess too, but she is south. The soldiers saw the dragon flying south. We will need all the help we can get- Targaryen Queen or not. “

“You said you have a way of convincing these Lords to fight?” Ser Davos asked, slightly incredulous. “It is better to be good, lest they will get distracted by the liberation of Winterfell and your Lady sister's ascension.”

“ But Lady Sansa is not the one to ascend, Ser.” 

Lord Reed took both Jon and Davos to his chambers, where Lady Maege Mormont and Lord Galbart Glover expected them. 

“You see, we have a will---”

***  
Before the nobles could be united in the Assembly, Ser Davos, Lords Reed, Glover and Lady Mormont called for an exceptional meeting at the training grounds.

There, Jon and some members of the Free Folk awaited. 

They had a small crate with them.

“ Many have asked why I am here. “ Jon started as a way of introduction. “ I showed you a letter from the new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I told you about the Free Folk and promised, once we were all here, to disclose the real reason why we need to come together and fight.”

From the small crate, a monster crawled out. It had no legs, but its hands moved viciously. The flesh was falling apart, green and rotten and its eyes jumped out of its sockets, one landing on the ground as the creature surged and tried to attack the notoriously vicious Lady Mormont, before being stabbed by Jon, turning to dust afterward.

The Lords held their breaths, disbelief and horror all over their faces. 

“You have much to talk among themselves- I suggest we meet again in an hour. “

Exhausted, Jon returned to his chambers. As he crossed the grounds to the main building, from the back of his eye, he saw Sansa approaching Lord Howland Reed.

In no time, his sister was knocking on his door.

***

“Jon, there are things we need to discuss before the Council is called.”

Jon nodded and ushered her inside, leaving the door slightly open for proprietary reasons:

“ I believe you saw when I spoke with Lord Howland. “ Sansa said in almost a whisper. “ I am aware of the will, Jon, and also that Bran is beyond the wall. I have a proposition. “

“I am all ears.”

Sansa took a deep breath. “ While Brandon is the next in line and Robb was unaware of his survival when he wrote the will, the fact is that you convinced the Lords there is a most immediate, major threat. The North cannot be left waiting. I will support your ascension to the Northern Throne in exchange to be named as your heir apparent, Princess of the North, Lady of Winterfell.”

Jon was tempted to accept on the spot. The will had solved many of his problems at once. As King in the North, he would have authority to send men to track down Brandon and the Reeds, correspond with the Citadel in a more efficient way, enforce the presence of the Free Folk and open negotiations with the Dragon Queen for the return of Shireen Baratheon and her support for the wars to come…

But something about the dismissive tone Sansa used when speaking of the Others made Jon more than skeptical:

” Sansa, you saw the undead with your own eyes. You seem to be more concerned about titles...did not even mention the need to send for Brandon and the Reeds.”

 _And Rickon_. Jon wanted to add, but had vowed not to speak openly about their little brother until he himself could go and see with his own eyes.

“The thing was undeniably awful and unquestionably magical in nature- but we still have enemies. _Human enemies_. Even if we forget about them, they will certainly not forget about us. Besides, the Starks survived thousands of years despite the existence of The Others. It is clear we defeated them once, and we can defeat them again. We have enough men and enough provisions...if everybody comes to Winterfell…”

“It is too early to agree on a war strategy, Sansa.” Jon had already made plans with Ser Davos anyway- plans he would not explain to Sansa at his stage, especially since she had already made up her mind .

“Now please, excuse me, I was about to change…”

***

Daenerys had not expected anything like this to happen- not to have lived a second life, not to have returned to her first one, let alone to have been given access to a deformed, ill advised version of her own life and above all, she had not expected to actually have visions.

But she saw it in her dream.

The darkness. the great pyre. the screams...the rescue. 

Again, something has changed. 

Shireen would have burned. Asha...this was difficult to say. Perhaps she would have used the event to escape with her brother?

_Theon---my God._

Theon had died, not defending Brandon, but trying to get to Asha.

Things were changing- and changing fast. 

***

Dragonstone was easy to spot. Their descent, unfortunately, was not without its troubles.

Over twelve hours atop Drogon and both Shireen and Asha could barely hear anything, the cold winds and altitude had temporarily damaged their eardrums.

“Archmaester Marwyn, could you please see they are taken care of? We can leave the introductions for later.”

Exhausted, Daenerys collapsed in bed, but her sleep was far from restful.

She was troubled.

_And hungry._

“Missandei, what time is it?” Daenerys asked between taking bites on a red, succulent apple.

“Well past noon, Your Grace.”

“ _Dany_ … you are to call me Dany or Daenerys when we are in private.” She then signaled for Missandei to take a seat by her side and join in her meal.

“ How was the retaking of the island.”

“As peaceful as you would expect. “ Without provocation, Viserion and Rhaegal torched the couple of Baratheon flagged ships that were anchored and the Castle capitulated right after. “We found some bodies at the bowels; the island had been invaded but weeks prior, with enough bloodshed.”

 _Loras Tyrell._ “ We are to keep the bodies and identify them. Lords and Ladies expect their relations to be returned as a signal of good will. “

Irri came in right after, carrying a tray with more bread and some cheese cuts. “ Apologies, Khaleesi- we are yet to get acquainted with the kitchen folk.”

“No matter- where is Aurane?”

“Right here.” Daenerys heard his voice coming from the door- he had been there for some time, watching them. “ I know you like to take your time to eat, do not mean to disturb.”

Daenerys waved her arms, motioning both hands towards her body in an obvious gesture: “Come here.”

As Aurane moved to take his seat at the table, both Missandei and Irri stood up to leave. 

“ Where are you going? “ Daenerys asked, slightly offended.

“Far from here.” Missandei replied. “ I do not want to see _it_.”

Irri agreed. “ We hear enough already.”

“Fine… _go_ ” Daenerys then gave Aurane a pointed, mischievous look.

” Come back in five minutes.”

“An hour.” Aurane corrected. “ An hour- we need an hour. Not five minutes”

***

After a very well spent hour, Daenerys met with her councilors, the castellan, and two of the highest-ranking prisoners they found in the gallows. She listened to them one by one, and they painted a very chaotic picture of the situation in Westeros.

When Ser Barristan informed her that Lord Varys had arrived the day before asking for a private meeting, Daenerys acted decisively.

“ I have not made my presence official as of yet. My rescuing of my cousin and the Greyjoy heiress was a stealth mission in the North- if Lord Varys is here, someone informed him. “

Daenerys dismissed most of her advisors, asking them to start preparing for the invasion immediately. By Ser Barristan's estimation, the Dothraki would reach the targets set for them in about seven days, which meant she would have six days to start negotiating with her southern allies.

As with rescuing Asha, Varys' presence on Dragonstone that early on was an added bonus Daenerys was more than happy to collect dividends from. 

Varys looked pristine, smelling fresh and clean and addressing Daenerys with a most respectful, submissive, cultivated voice she had heard so far.

“ Your Grace, I came as soon as I heard the rumors of your arrival, hopefully bringing you good news and humbling offering my assistance.”

Subtle players like Varys and Littlefinger presented themselves as innocuous, subservient, passive men incapable of the most heinous crimes. Daenerys, however, knew better. Varys was ruthless and cruel, cutting the tongues of children and forcing them into an abusive work relationship. Littlefinger was slightly worse: a disgusting little man profiting from pedophilia, murder, and war, all because some red-haired girl had the audacity of not returning his feelings.

_Fuck them- fuck both of them._

“Enough with your theatricals, mummer. Here is the deal I have to offer you: speak the truth about this _nephew_ of mine and I will allow you to leave this island in one piece.”

Daenerys had her most fearsome-looking Dothraki warriors come closer to where Varys stood and encircle him. While Varys was perfectly capable of dirtying his hands from time to time, he was, in essence, a coward- and cowards usually broke down at just the threat of physical violence.

Given the middle aged man's past experiences, Daenerys was not surprised when she noticed the former Master of Whisper's whole body going limp.

“ _Your Grace--_ -”

“Save yourself some trouble. I have no interest in having you by my side. You are either a foe, directly responsible for half the debacles that befallen the realm, from feeding my late father´s worst impulses to ostensibly supporting the disruptive Lannister rule, or you are too fucking _bad at your job_ where it counts. Three out of four Kings you served were murdered.” 

Why would Daenerys be forced to endure the presence of such pitiful human beings? She would rather eliminate him completely and move on. 

“Take the deal while you still have a choice.”

He took it.

***

Daenerys was having tea with Greyworm and Jhoqo at the balcony of the painted table room, going through the objectives of the mission she had assigned them, when Jhiqui came in to inform both Shireen and Asha that she was waiting for her.

Daenerys decided it would send a better message to meet them at their quarters. They shared an antechamber, with Shireen staying at her old bedroom and Asha being placed at an adjoining one, slightly smaller, which Daenerys assumed belonged to the Baratheon heiress caretaker when she had lived at the castle.

They both stood as Daenerys presence was announced:

Shireen was the first to speak : “ Your Grace- it is an honour to have you join us.”

Shireen looked sad, but resigned. In times of crisis, Daenerys reminded herself, people often clung to small acts of civility, attempting to establish a measure of normalcy.

So, she followed the tone, officially welcoming Shireen and Asha in Dragonstone.

” We heard about you, Your Grace. The Dragon Queen of Meereen- I believe my uncle sailed in that direction.”

“You are right, Lady Asha. Victarion Greyjoy did sail to Meereen, on the words of your other uncle, the one they declared King in your stead. “ Daenerys then paused. It seemed wrong going straight to business before acknowledging their personal losses.

“Princess Shireen, there is no need to go through the circumstances of my birth and the reason for my return. You are a capable, highly educated young woman of noble birth. I offer you my condolences on the death of your father and your mother. You are now, unfortunately, an orphan, as am I. As a member of my extended family, I want to reiterate that I did not save your life just to make you a prisoner. You are here not only as my guest, but as my cousin, Princess.”

“Thank you---cousin. “ To Shireen, speaking about her family was revisiting a nightmare. But this nightmare was the reason she was in this situation to begin with . “Mother never really loved me. She did nothing to save me. The Red Woman would have burnt me to have my Father back. I am glad and thankful you saved me, Your Grace.”

“Please, call me Daenerys when we are in private.” She gave the girl a reassuring smile before turning her attention to Asha. “ I am very sorry for the loss of your relation---there was a man wearing your sigil that---”

“Thank you, Your Grace...he was my brother, Theon.”

“Yes...Theon Greyjoy.” Daenerys had to tread carefully, speaking only the necessary for her message to come across, leaving her guests to fill the blanks. “ Your uncle, Lord Victarion, attempted to take one of my dragons through magic and paid for that insolence with his life- he was burnt to the crips by the dragon he wanted to claim.”

“On the orders of my other uncle, if I may add.” Asha relaxed her stance. Ready to speak plainly. “ I would like to thank you, Your Grace, for rescuing me from the fire worshipers. My brother and I were held prisoners by the Baratheon King. I am a fugitive in the eyes of my Crowned Uncle, the one who wants your dragons. I have nothing to lose, barely anything to offer, but... I would like to join your cause if you will have me.”

“I will.” Daenerys answered enthusiastically. “ But there is something you can do to help. Your uncle does not know of my arrival yet. He is moving his fleet as we speak. I shall defeat him before he is aware of my presence. You will then succeed to the Salt Throne as Lady of the Iron Islands. But first I need to crush him and the men who supported him- and I need you to tell me who. “

“ I do understand, Your Grace. This is war. A war my father foolishly started. Losses are to be expected. I am forever grateful for your support, Your Grace.”

“Princess, I am to leave for six days. When I return, Gods be willing, Storm's End will either be liberated or close to. What I offer you, in exchange for your recognition of my claim, is the seat of your ancestors. Of course, if you wish to press your claim, I could arrange for you to be delivered to your next of kin, although your father´s army is no more…”

Shireen had already made up her mind: “I accept your offer, Your Grace. I never wanted to be Queen and, for what its worth, I do not believe my father wanted it either.”

***

Daenerys worried more about her reception at Sunspear than about the destruction she would find in Oldtown. She had seen enough of war and its effects to know what to expect- dealing with a close-knit, noble westerosi family was another matter.

“The Dornish sailed two days ago, you said?” 

“Yes” replied Aurane. “ They must have arrived by now.”

“Will you meet me at Driftmark in six days' time? Mayhaps it is too dangerous to sail and---”

Aurane placed his left hand on Daenery's shoulder, leaning in closer to plant a small kiss on her lips:

“I will be fine, my love.”

Daenerys worst fears materialized hours later, when she noticed the beacons coming from the walls she assumed belonged to Sunspear

Instead of landing, Daenerys went south, flying higher, hiding behind the heavy clouds. She had only seen a couple of suspect ships south of Estermont, so she assumed, if she was to find anything, it would be south.

Ten minutes later and Daenerys spotted the sigils.

_Gods, how faster can he move his fleet?_

She then admonished herself- Euron operated through sacrifice and old magic. Not only had he survived his first major battle for the throne, but he was now moving forward with his plans.

No matter what exactly were his plans, Daenerys decided she had seen enough.

“The motherfucker will die tonight”. 

***

The torching started right away. It was dangerous, attacking without her fleet to back her up, but Daenerys would not waste the surprise factor. She wore her new armor, Dragon had been fitted with a helmet, was properly saddled, and, if she acted decisively, there was a chance she could eliminate this villain once and for all.

However, the Fleet was immense. She attacked first the warships, concentrating on simply rupturing the hull in such a way as to make the vessel sink. Effective, but not showing off. The objective was not to send a message but to inflict as much damage as she could.

From above, Daenerys could see her strategy working.- but barely. She knew Euron only by his reputation, vaguely remembering he was supposed to be a naval genius, responsible for the burning of all the Lannister fleet in one of those Greyjoy rebellions.

Daenerys feared Euron could potentially have more tricks at his disposal. She was placing herself and her dragon in danger. Better to retreat, she thought, fly to Sunspear, regroup and report to the Martells, when Drogon´s brothers made an unexpected appearance.

Atop Viserion, Missandei of Narth.

“Fuck yeah!”

***

Daenerys could not resist but to high five her friend.

” I was about to turn and ...and then you appeared! How was that even possible?”

Missandei blushed: “We went to feed the dragons as usual, but Viserion was behaving oddly. I came closer and ...he offered me his neck. Rhaegal joined us midair and they took me here.”

Together, they managed to torch at least two thirds of the Iron Fleet. The last thing Daenerys remembered was the Silence being engulfed by the waters.

Euron Greyjoy would be dining in the watery halls of the Drowned God and from its Halls, where he would never return.

***

Daenerys and Missandei were welcomed by the castellan of Sunspear, Ser Manfrey Martell, who confirmed the Prince of Dorne had received word of her arrival and was eager to speak.

Daenerys was taken to the Tower of the Sun, where guests' rights were extended through bread and salt. She was nervous. This had been a bold move, appearing before the Prince without escorts, in the middle of a war where Dorne´s loyalties were uncertain, in a moment she could potentially be seen as just another claimant.

Prince Doran's reputation preceded him. A calculating, dutiful man, someone Daenerys could reason with.

But sitting at the Throne was not Doran, but his son, Trystane.

“Your Grace, Dorne owes you a great deal tonight.” The young man said, voice clear and loud. “ You and your dragons defeated the famed Iron Fleet.”

“My Prince, my only wish is to protect my people from any threat and the false King Greyjoy was merely that- a threat. But the victory does not belong only to me. Credit must be given to my dragons...and my adoptive sister, the dragon rider Missandei of Naath.”

Daenerys offered Missandei a warm smile. The teenager, visibly moved by the statement, just nodded.

“Very well, I suppose the formalities have been observed- please, Your Grace, I ask you to join me and my advisors, as we have much to talk.”

***

Driftmark was a fertile, beautiful island, bigger than Dragonstone, and slightly more developed. Daenerys could barely see both ends of the land, but knew she should land near the main castle, also called Driftmark, because the other one, High Tide, was an inhabitable ruin.

Aurane had been waiting for Daenerys by the Gates. He looked rather serious, concerned perhaps? She was so happy to see him and so taken by his kiss that she overlooked these details.

“ How was Dorne?” Aurane asked as they broke their kiss“ and The Reach? Are they on our side?” 

“Missandei is now a dragonrider, did you know?” Aurane did know- he had witnessed her first flight on Dragonstone. “Prince Trystane has capable advisors and will side with us, provided I solve a family dispute of his.” 

“ What kind of dispute?”

“ I will tell you later. “ Daenerys just added she would need to go to Storm's End sooner rather than later, but it took her double the time to deal with the reachmen- and Lannister´s troops. “ Lady Olenna lost all her grandchildren named Tyrell,either to Euron Greyjoy or Cersei. She has moved to Oldtown at my request, where she will restore her House through a marriage. A Tyrel cousin will wed one of her Redwyne granddaughters. I was welcomed at the Starry Sept, The Citadel and the Hightower. I signed papers to establish House Florent, sent envoys to House Tarly, and met with part of my troops south of Tumbleton and---” 

Halfway through the ramp, Daenerys stopped, taking a good look at Aurane.

“ My love, is something the matter?”

“Half the Castle is in quarantine.” He supplied in a low tone. “ Maester Stone says it is safe to spend the night on the west wing, but I´d rather you not stay.”

The little boy, Monterys, had been afflicted with the fever. Lady Velaryon, Aurane explained, had been ill for months- it was just a matter of time. 

“She wants to speak…”

***

Lady Velaryon, a Celtigar by birth, was a pretty enough woman, not even fifty years of age, but in such poor health as to walk with a cane and need assistance to sit.

“ Your Grace, it is a great honour to receive you---IT gives me great pleasure to see dragons once again at Driftmark. Please, take a seat.” 

Due to the health restrictions, they sat at a large table facing each other, but no food was served.

“My nephew feels it is wise that you do not tarry. I apologize for this lack of Etiquette, but needs must, as they say.”

“Your nephew?” Daenerys asked in confusion.

“ _Aurane_. My half sister Anora, a bastard of my father, caught the eye of Monterys on the night of our betrothal no less.” Lady Velaryon interrupted her tale to cough, covering her mouth with a silk, green handkerchief. “I do not hold against them- these things cannot be avoided, as you know. He tried, I tried, Anora suffered...eventually, I had to concede defeat. I was thought to be barren, you see? Five years, no heir. I agreed to have Anora and the boy come and live with us. The best decision I made. Three moon turns later, I was pregnant with Monfort- my only son.”

Oh, now Daenerys feel very bad for the lady- not only had she wait a long time for a family, but now she would be losing it!

“My Lady, I am truly sorry for your losses- what can I do to assist you? Aurane said the boy is ill- I can bring my personal healers and the Archmaester for a second opinion at any time…”

“I thank you, Your Grace. Our Maester already said there is no hope for the boy- poor Monterys! " Daenerys could see the tears coming- she would have held the old woman´s hands but for the safety measures. "My only consolation is that soon, we will be united in heaven. I long to be with my husband again, for I loved him deeply. Only after Anora died, he became mine as I was his. Those were happy years, cut short by this senseless war. My line will end. This is my punishment.I should have not opened the doors for the false Dragon´s men and broken Faith with House Targaryen..”

 _“Aegon?_ How do you know he is not who he claims to be, my Lady? And how could you have known when you received his emissaries? 

“Oh, please.” Lady Velaryon rolled her eyes in annoyance. “ The Golden Company? The one founded by Bittersteel? People will hear what they want to hear, but the truth was as clear as day. We barely survived Aurane stealing from the Lannister Cow. I should have not been so greedy and said yes when they came- Monterys is but a boy.”

Lady Velaryon blamed Aegon´s emissary for infecting her household. She herself had not fallen ill of this particular malady.

“ It is the lump on my breast that is killing me, not this fever.” But her only grandson was on his fourth day of fever, she said, and the Maester had already declared him a goner.

“All there is left of House Velaryon is Aurane and his aunt, Allyria. She is my late husband's younger sister from his Lord father´s third wedding, six years older than Aurane himself. A widow. Provided an heir and a spare to House Rykker. Her boys are now squires, and, per her betrothal agreement, she was returned to House Velaryon last year- _do you follow_?”

Daenerys did follow- she just happened not to like it.

***

Aurane escorted Daenerys aboard the Pride of Tides as soon as her meeting with Lady Velaryon was over.

When they finally made it to her cabin, she kissed him- hungrily, passionately. 

“Do you know what she wanted from me?” Daenerys asked. “ Do you know?”

“Yes, I do know.” He struggled to take off her clothes, another stranger design of hers- a catsuit, she named it. Aurane liked how it marked her body, how it hugged her curves. He knew Daenerys hated it though. “Too tight, too warm.” she said as she wore the clothes the first time. Aurane liked to watch her change. he liked her smallclothes, little stripes of lace that barely covered her tits and ass. " Lingerie" she would tell him.

But now, Aurane he hated the bloody catsuit as much as she did.

In fact, Aurane hated everything about this day, everything about this war...

“I told you in Volantis that if we sailed to Westeros, I would lose you."

He just never imagined he would lose her this way.

“ You agreed to her request? Am I to marry Allyria?”

“You are legitimized by Royal Decree…” _You will marry Allyria without loving her, like nobles do, because this is the whole point of this broken system…_ ” How can I tell you not to marry her, Aurane? Should I be so selfish as to keep you by my side when I myself will marry for political gain?”

 _"I---I-_ \--do _not_ want to talk about it.” he kissed her again, this time softly, their foreheads touching as he murmured under his breath.

“ I want _you_ …”

“I want you too, my love...now and always.”

When the morning came, Daenerys was gone.

***

Distracted, Jon had not replied to Val the first time when she asked how long would it take to sail south.

“I do not know exactly. “ A couple of weeks to White Harbour provided the weather held and they made a good time. “ We are to stop a couple of times. King's Landing is very south.”

”You are not taking me with you.” 

Jon made no effort in denying it. Val looked the part, but she was no Lady. 

He did not know the woman he was to meet. If this Daenerys was anything like Sansa, she would be offended by Val´s presence.

This alliance was too important to jeopardize, Jon reasoned:

“You belong In the North, Val. You are not a kneeler.”

Jon did not leave his quarters that night, choosing to spend his last hours at Winterfell in solitude. Two days had passed since he was declared King and he barely had any time to breathe. He knew the moment he was to set foot outside his room, somebody would come and ask him for something- probably Sansa.

 _Sansa._ Jon waved his head in annoyance. He saw very little of Lord Reed. Sansa kept the crannogman busy with all the rebuilding undergoing. Reed had tried to decline, but Jon´s sister insisted she needed someone to deal with the manual laborers, as she herself had little experience with them, and Jon hismelf was too busy with other requests.

Feeling bad for being such a poor manager of his time, Jon sought Howland Reed first thing in the morning, finding him at the Godswood.

“ Apologies, Lord Reed. I am leaving and we barely have time to speak. Much has happened. Gods be good, the Dragon Queen agrees to assist us. Scouting with a dragon should be an immense advantage, as the distances Beyond the Wall are great.”

“We will find them, Your Grace, this I am sure. But there is something I was hoping to speak to y---”

“Oh, there you are!” Sansa said as she spotted both men before the weirwood tree. “ They are waiting, Your Grace.!

Lord Reed gave Sansa a slightly exasperated look before turning his face to Jon. 

“ No matter, Your Grace. We speak upon your return.”

***

Daenerys watched from the clouds as the ship with the direwolf sigil approached her waters.

Much had happened the past month.

She had won battles, negotiated with foes, forged alliances, liberated castles, politically and geographically isolated her most direct adversary…

Lost the love of her life to his familial duties…

She signed for Missandei to continue rehearsing the evasion maneuvers with Viserion. They had developed signs to help with communication midair as having a conversation during an aerial attack was obviously impractical.

Jhoqo and Rhakaro escorted her back to the Castle. They had returned from their last battle carrying their weight on Lannister gold and took to wear some over their chests. 

“The visitors from The North are coming. We will receive them at the Throne Room.”

“Khaleesi, should we wear the...gala uniforms?”

Daenerys snorted “No- those are only for special occasions.” Meeting Jon Snow, in her estimation, did not count as such.

However, she wanted her Court to look as a foreigner and as opulent as possible.

The more uncomfortable she would make the King in the North and his advisors, the better.

“Wear your armour and the black leather boots with silver spurs... and the circlets with platinum horses and diamonds”

***

Irri had done a marvelous job at braiding Daenerys hair, despite her initial confusion at the request.

“ You are not going to battle, are you?.”

“Oh, Irri..." Daenerys laughed. "Of course I am! “

Jon Snow would be a battle onto himself.

She felt good- confident, strong. _Perhaps he will not be as weak as in the tale.._.

No matter- he was not the one she wanted, only the one she needed.

Daenerys chose one of her dragon necklaces to go with the new dress. She decided against make up though.

It would be too much, she decided.

Daenerys looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting some hairpin, when she saw the face of her lover in the reflection.

“Aurane!”

Daenerys jumped in his arms, kissing the blond man fully on his lips, inhaling his salty smell, the stubs of his growing beard brushing against her cheecks.

“ What are you doing here? The K---”

“Wolf boy is arriving, yes, I know. That is why I came.”

Daenerys asked her handmaids to leave them - she did not want anybody to hear this conversation.

“ He is not going to try and kill me---”

“Not yet, no. First he will ask for your help, without offering anything in return.” Aurane scoffed. “ You told me how it was and how it ended. I will not leave you alone and exposed.”

“We cannot be together anymore, as we were.” Jon was raised as a bastard. It stood to reason he would not take lightly at the possibility his offspring too would be bastards, especially born out of another man's loins. 

“ The price for his loyalty is my...err... _virtue_...”

“There is nothing virtuous about you and that is how we both like it.” Aurane took a good look at Daenerys, dressed in an asymmetric, one shoulder, red satin dress with a deep leg opening. “ You look...beautiful. As always.”

“Thank you.” Then it occurred to Daenerys she had not asked about Aurane´s family. What did they think about him leaving Driftmark so early on?

“ How are things going in Driftmark?”

“ Oh, well...it seems we both fell for the sad tale of an old lady dying´s wishes.”

Monterys Velaryon, the boy who was supposed to be on his deathbed, had suddenly recovered.

So did Lady Velaryon.

“That bitch!” 

It was payback for what Aurane had done to the family, he explained. Leaving with Cersei´s small fleet had exposed the Velaryons for retaliation and his aunt would have never forgiven him for the oversight. 

“Well to be fair, she granted me the ruins of High Tide as my Knightly seat. When this is all over, I plan to sail east again and make my fortune...restore what the Triarchy had destroyed during the dance.”

Aurane had so far not mentioned his Lady wife.

“ and...Allyria?”

“ With child.” he answered softly. “ Married life does not suit me. I will return when her time comes. For the babe.”  
  


 _The babe_ …

The one that should have been hers if life was fair....and if she had been smart enough to have seen through the machinations of a pissed off noblewoman.

“Well, we should not leave wolfboy waiting.”  
  


***

Jon´s breath caught when he saw the three dragons as they approached the Seat of House Targaryen.

_It was all true...it had not been a dream. The dragons are back._

He was received at the Gates by Ser Barristan Selmy, the most famous knight of the Seven Kingdoms. The Dothraki warriors that had escorted Jon from the beaches towered over his northern soldiers, but some of the Unsullied were smaller, lighter than the horse lords.

They all spoke enough of Common Tongue to get their points across, but to hear the old knight speak in his low, stately voice was a pleasure.

“ Your Grace, would you prefer to be shown your quarters or to be received at the Throne Room right away?” The old Knight asked after the introductions were made. “ Her Grace would understand if you need some respite.”

“We can rest after supper. “ Jon replied, eyes still on the skies, where the dragons danced. “ let´s not keep Her Grace waiting.”

***

There was a long corridor and many, many doors.

“ It looks very different than when Stannis lived here.” Ser Davos commented. “ The castle seems... _alive_.”

The windows were all open, leaving the fault rays of light and the salt smell of the sea to invade Jon´s senses.

Before he realized, they had arrived.

“You are before Her Grace, Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen. First of Her Name... “

A young woman, not older than four and ten announced as Jon entered the Great hall of Dragonstone.

They all stood, proud and rich and beautiful, unlike anything that Jon had ever seen. They wore small crowns- circlets, as he was told- signs of their high rankings at the so-called Dragon Court. 

A semi-circle was formed around the Throne, where the members of this newfound Order took their seats on two large benches of carved wood.

The first on her left side was the girl named Missandei, a dragon rider and Her grace´s most trusted advisor...right after her, to Ser Davos obvious relief, was Shireen, who too wore a circlet decorated with antlers, then followed by Asha Greyjoy and two others Jon assumed were Dothraki ladies.

Next to the Queen, was a handsome man dressed in exquisite clothes, as long as a gown. His circlet, Jon noticed, looked slightly heavier than the ones the high ranking Dothraki at the dais wore. This man, a Valyrian if judged by his appearance, only left the Queen´s side when Ser Barristan came to take his seat at her right.

But nothing and no one could be compared to the Queen herself.

Jon had expected a beauty, yes. Daenerys was a Targaryen and they were famed by their comely features and stately presence.

Still, Jon had not be prepared for ... _this_.

She was out of the world. Fire made flesh. 

She was a Queen, no doubt. Jon had been disappointed in Robert Baratheon, a fat and dissipated man whose laughter was too loud and smelled like piss and beer. Even Cersei, beautiful as she was, had not been Jon´s idea of what a Queen looked like, cold and unpleasant, her features always clouded by her wickedness.

Daenerys was something else. Her hair was braided in an impressive pattern, decorated with stones of immense value, and her face, young, fair and heavenly, held a promise of sweetness and intelligence.

Jon was impressed.

The feeling, however, was not mutual.

“ Welcome to Dragonstone, King Jon of House Stark.” she said curtly.

“Your Grace, thank you for receiving us. I am glad to see that Princess Shireen and Lady Ashara are safe and sound. “

  
“ Lady Shireen is family, a cousin thrice removed if I am not mistaken- Lady Asha is an ally. No harm should befall them as they are under my protection.” The Queen gave a brief pause, then added. “ What about you, Your Grace? What are you to me? An ally?”

“An ally, hopefully, Your Grace.” 

Daenerys tilted her head. “ An ally you say? I would like that. Let's negotiate this alliance you speak of. What do you have to offer, Your Grace?”

Jon saw a slight smile flashing across the man next to Ser Barristan- all others were holding their breaths. 

“Your Grace, I did not come here to play the game of thrones...I came as a King, to speak on behalf of my people, and ask a Queen to join us in fighting against a common enemy.”

“Enlighten me, Your Grace.”

Jon silently cursed himself. 

He had killed the wight to convince the Northern Lords. How could he hope to convince a southron the White Walkers were real? Jon then noticed the grey man in her employ. One of his links in his chain was a valyrian steel one. 

Her Maester was versed in Magic...this was a start, Jon reasoned.

“ The tales of Old, about how and why Brandon Stark, my ancestor, built The Wall with the help of Giants and other creatures...it is all real, Your Grace. The Free Folk already crossed south. The Night's Watch has been fighting mammoths and Giants without any assistance from the Crown...it is only a matter of time until the Long Night comes and, with it, the white walkers.”

Jon then jerked his head towards the Maester, silently pleading for assistance. “ If you do not believe me…”

“Oh, but I do believe you, Your Grace.” She was not speaking in jest. Daenerys truly meant it- to Jon´s utter disbelief. “Why do you think I came all the way here? The Others, you call them. White Walkers. Wights... Ice Demons. An enemy that feels no pain, does not sleep, does not eat, stops at nothing. Necromancers...an enemy that can only be killed by fire, dragonglass or dragonsteel.” 

Jon looked at Ser Davos, unsure on how to proceed.

Fortunately, Davos was able to read Jon´s intention, picking up from where he left off. “ Your Grace.” The middle-aged man began.

“ The father of the Lady Shireen, King Stannis, was convinced by a Red Priestess to be the prophesied hero to fight against this magical enemy on the account that he lived at Dragonstone and had Targaryen blood- King's blood- in his hands. If you are aware of the tales and you possess the tools to fight this enemy, you are duty bound to do it.”

Jon could not have said it any better. Politics aside, this was a fight that went beyond negotiations and he was grateful that Davos had managed to explain this idea in a respectful way, because he was honestly out of his depth.

“Absolutely Ser Davos. A Queen must protect her subjects and her allies. A question: did the enemy perchance cross the wall already?”

“No.” Jon replied. “ No, only the Free Folk were allowed to pass. The Night's Watch still stands vigil, but once the fight starts, they c---”

“I will send the Night's Watch some of the dragonglass we are mining. Then, I will close the borders with The North. The Riverlands are cleaned, liberated, and under my rule. Your Grace, as a sign of friendship, I will authorize our ports to receive any and each northern refugee you send us.”

“ _Your Grace_ , “ Jon managed to say with some level of restraint. “ Not even twenty years ago, your Father murdered my grandfather and my uncle. Your family lost the Crown. I do not hold the crimes of the Father against the sons...or daughters. That is why I came here... assuming you would help“

“The actions of my father are his own, Your Grace. The good and the bad. House Targaryen deeply regrets his past crimes. I do apologize and sympathize with your pain. _However_ -” and she pronounced each syllable of the word. “ The Justice system that has been prevalent in this land for thousands of years states that death is the punishment for a series of crimes. Threatening the heir of the Crown is punishable by death; kidnapping a young woman, on the other hand, is regarded merely as a transgression. Why? It feels unfair because it is unfair. But then, if we can discuss the subtleties of the Law when applying to each and every case, and even the matter of its morality, it will lead us nowhere unless we do something and change it. The question is: what to change? the part of the whole?

Daenerys then gave a sigh. “ You speak about not holding my father's crimes against me, yet you remind me of them in my presence, as if I did not know it already. Cruel as he was, my father, followed the law. He twisted it to fit his madness, yes, but it was the Law. An immoral Law, perhaps, but a law nevertheless. A Law everybody followed, for thousands and thousands of years. The legality of his actions, the morality of his actions or lack thereof does not erase the emotional repercussions it has caused. If we are to discuss, the moral thing to do is change- should we change? It does benefit some...In other words; you have all the right to be outraged still, but you have no right to imply I should place the safety of my subjects in jeopardy in a misguided bid to gain your forgiveness for a crime I did not personally commit.

" Might I remind you, Your Grace, the Laws of this Land are based on the expectancy of generational loyalty and on the idea that families' legacies take precedence over individual actions. You yourself gained your present title based on your family connections, as I gained mine, despite the fact your Lord Father died as a traitor and mine, was put down like a rabid dog.”

By the time Daenerys reached her conclusion, Jon was already fuming. 

“ As you see, my responsibility to my subjects in Westeros is to prevent this Enemy from conquering my lands. My responsibility to my allies in Essos is to make sure the Enemy does not cross the Seas and spread its wicked influence to the world. To a fellow King whose land is not mine, does not fall under my jurisdiction and has nothing to offer but demands for help based on a strange and rather exclusionist vision of my role as the daughter of a recently restored royal house, all I can offer, other than my sympathies, is what I already did: some weapons you obviously need and the promise I will receive your people with open arms if it ever comes to that.”

“But I see you are not grateful for what has already been offered.” Daenerys shrugged. “ No matter. I will not hold it against you, Your Grace. Think about what has been spoken here. Tomorrow, we shall speak again. We shall negotiate. If the meaning of the word escapes you, I explain: you offer me something I do not have, but want; I offer you something you do not have, but you want. We meet somewhere in the middle- or we say our goodbyes.”

Daenerys stood up and Jon could see her bare legs as the gown was cut vertically, from her feet to well above her knees. His eyes lingered more than he would have wanted- hers was definitely a warm body.

Before officially dismissing the Court and leaving the Throne Room, Daenerys looked straight into Jon's eyes, like there was nobody there but the two of them, and asked in her rich, red voice:

“Do you think you are capable of giving me what I want, Your Grace?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. It is a mess...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pact of Ice and Fire...and much more fire in King´s Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took at least a week longer to complete. My goal is twice a month updates. Usually, my chapters are 10 pages long, which is 3500- 5000 words, but the last two were very, very long.  
> This is also long, but the tendency will be, after the next chapter, to slowly cut from the 20-25 pages I am now writing down to 10-15 pages.
> 
> If I manage to do this, then I can update more often.

“Are you leaving _already_?”

Daenerys asked Aurane from behind the small table where her cup of ginger tea remained untouched. She was slightly annoyed at herself for having hoped he would stay longer when it was obvious he should not.

In all honesty, Daenerys envied Aurane´s freedom. She would have liked to say that she was happy for him, to leave on his own terms, but this would have been a lie. 

Needless to say, Aurane was not only leaving his wife, the one he did not love, behind, but he was also _her_.

And this hurt her more than anything.

_This is stupid- plain stupid! Why do I have to feel this way? I knew it would end badly. Why does it have to hurt so much?_

“As I said, I have a Keep to restore- and a little coin to spare.”

Daenerys indeed admired Aurane´s thirst for independence and adventure. He could very well stay and profit from the proximity to her, but he preferred not to. It would be easier, and Aurane hardly took the easier route. 

“Not to mention, I have already seen what I came here to see.” Aurane then gave Daenerys a mischievous smile as he covered her hand with his. 

“You are more than capable to deal with this Jon and his grasping family, my love. You are not that frail, broken woman you spoke about and I do not see how you can ever _possibly_ be reduced to such a sad state.”

Daenerys agreed. How could Jon become everything to her when she already have everything she had ever needed or wanted?

Perhaps, this was the true gift of this unexpected love.

Maybe, without knowing, in a certain way, Aurane had saved her life:

”Thanks to you,I will not give him so much of myself this time.” 

This was true. Even if something akin to love would grow from this tentative alliance with Jon what she had lived with Aurane had made her emotionally stronger and provided her with comfort and happiness

She would not come to Jon as a love-starved, emotionally scarred woman. His love, or absence of, would not wound her heart as fatally as before.

***

Rather than joining her Court at the table to break her fast, Daenerys remained in her chambers for a couple of hours, supposedly to write some letters.

However, instead of dipping her feathers on ink, all Daenerys could do was stare at the window, watching the waves coming ongoing at the shore. 

Self-pity was such a waste of time!

But Daenerys needed some hours at least. To both digest what had just happened and what was about to happen. 

She had just waved goodbye to her lover for what could very well be forever, without even allowing herself the luxury of a full kiss, because there was no point in dragging the situation any further, as she would be negotiating her own wedding to a man she barely knew.

Daenerys had gone through this many times over. There was no other way. They needed to defeat the walkers. It would be very difficult, as she doubted they could count on everything ending due to a sucker punch delivered by a psychotic would-be Christoper Columbus in drag.

A misnomer, since even his peers held Columbus to be not only an asshole, but a specially evil asshole. 

There would be no offhand remark made by a secondary character somehow becoming a viable plan. They could not hope to kill their leader and be done with it because there was no leader- this army worked as an unified force, in tandem, moved by a sort of a mystical hive mind command, not a Knight King looking like an evil Smurf..

She could go North all she wanted, but without the assurance the Seven Kingdoms would stand together, all efforts would be in vain: infighting would continue until the last man standing.

Nobody would want to hear a murderous dwarf lecturing people over who got the best story.

***

The inevitability of something does not necessarily make it easier, Daenerys had learned.

Their first meeting had started promising enough. Although Jon had not come prepared, he was intelligent enough to improvise as he went.

This, or maybe, he was betting on Daenerys being a better ruler than Cersei, because anyone reasonably interested in ruling with a degree of common sense and justice would, at minimum, upon being informed the Free Folk had crossed, send envoys to get appraised of the situation of the Night's Watch.

But they never gotten that far; personal emotions disrupted their dealings and everything fell apart.

_This is what you get_ , Daenerys thought bitterly, _when family matters are the same as matters of state- a mess._

The absolutism of the Targaryens was but symptom of a larger problem. Monarchies can work well enough under very regulated circumstances. Laws limiting executive powers, decentralized government, a legislative body and, above all else, a failsafe to avoid a mentally ill man to hold life and death power over people, would have prevented tragedies like civil wars and fat Robert Baratheon from happening.

Alas, this was water under the bridge- anything short of traveling back in time to prevent the kidnapping of Lyana would not erase what had been done. 

There was no other remedy than to move forward and, hopefully, heal- this after killing massive hordes of ice zombies.

*** 

Now that Daenerys had slept on the matter, she could barely say the blame for that failure lied exclusively on Jon´s feet.

Context, as usual, was everything. 

Obviously, Jon should have not brought up his shared family trauma when he did. It read as an aggressive demand, not as a display of frustration on a very stressful back and forth.

But Daenerys too allowed her emotions to speak up. She should not have responded to the outburst...in fact, she should have not even asked any other question rather than “ how was your trip, Your Grace?” 

That meeting at the Throne Room should have been treated as a formality, not unlike how Prince Trystane had conducted himself when they first met- small talk in the presence of the Court followed by a serious meeting under closed doors.

Besides, negotiating under duress would always be a shitty strategy, as her meeting with Lady Velaryon had showed her.

Daenerys should have seen the situation as it was:, a noble lady fighting tooth and nails to see her bloodline succeed, not a physically frail, depressed middle-aged woman trying to make good on her late husband's bastard while lamenting her many misfortunes. 

Aurane had been only partially right about his aunt enacting retribution for the dishonor of having a relative pirating in the waters of the Stepstones with a fleet stolen from the Crown. Daenerys knew her lover was not the hero type, but Aurane had not placed the life of this nephew in any kind of danger. 

In fact, Aurane made sure to only sail away when it became evident for everyone but Cersei, that she was screwed. 

As a member of the Small Council, Aurane knew House Lannister had bigger fish to fry than to waste their time by sending ships they did not have in his pursuit.

There was also the prejudices against his birth status playing in his favor: running away with stolen property was a bastard´s expected behavior in the eyes of most of nobility.

What Lady Velaryon truly wanted was to ensure the future of her grandson, the only thing she had left of the man she had loved and of the son she had never expected to have, would not be jeopardized by the rogue bastard returning home not as a fugitive, but as the lover of a dragon rider Queen.

By breaking the relationship before Daenerys officially took the Throne and having Aurane marrying into the family, Lady Velaryon had dismantled the threat and made sure no payback would come her way.

***

Daenerys was pleased to see Ser Davos among Jon´s retinue. For a time, she had feared this too would have changed. Her arrival at an earlier stage had kicked off a butterfly effect of sorts. She still held some advantage, particularly when it came on knowing people's motivations, but a quick look at the Stormlands´a portion of the painted table had Daenerys shaking her head.

“It is a mess- it is a fucking _mess._ ”

When informed by their spies Daenerys fleet was moving south, Jon Connington slightly changed his strategy, opting to gather as many political allies as he could before Westeros learned of her impending arrival. He himself went to visit a couple of Keeps in the Stormlands, sending emissaries to other castles in the vicinity, such as Driftmark, thus thoroughly spreading greyscale and the essosi fever.

Arianne Martell had a similar response to the news of Daenerys impending arrival. Assuming Quentyn had been successful in his quest and acting on jealous impulse, she gambled, and married Aegon on the spot.

Since then, no more reports had been sent. There was much conflicting information about Storm's End and Arianne. Prince Trystane noted that, with the plague spreading and the seat of House Baratheon in lockdown, the conclusion was rather obvious.

Meanwhile, Jon Connington and his troops advanced, crossing the Stormlands borders with the Crownlands where they disappeared. 

***

Analyzing the debacle with certain distance had provided Daenerys with a more positive picture of Jon. 

They had a disagreement, yes, and they had quarreled, but one aspect of his conduct towards her struck a chord: 

Jon listened to her. 

Many men in her employ had to be told twice. But not Jon; once Daenerys said the discussion was over, he accepted the dismissal, and left without much protest. 

Uninterested in his love as she was, what Daenerys needed more than anything was his loyalty- and beginning a relationship with respect instead of condescension was a very positive outcome.

***

After surviving the North, Davos Seaworth had returned to the place where everything had started: Dragonstone. 

It was there his prayers were finally answered and he found his Princess.

Shireen , however, was no longer a Princess and by her own choice.

She was a child, but an intelligent one and Davos trusted her opinion.

Davos would also respect Shireen´s decision. It contradicted the promise he had made to her father, that he would fight for her claim to the Iron Throne, but he knew it was not meant to be.

Stannis had died and, with him, the rule of House Baratheon over the Seven Kingdoms.

In Shireen´s estimation, the downfall of her House was a good thing.

“Her Grace, is a good Queen, Ser Davos. She saved me from the fires. I have no wish to press my claim, nor I wish you to ever mention it again.”

Davos bowed to the girl :

“I understand, my Lady.”

He then asked about the girl´s next of kin- had they been contacted? 

The girl nodded. “Lord Estermont is old and recently wed, but takes his responsibilities seriously and offered to house me. So did the current Lord Florent, whom I believe is my late´s mother´s cousin. He has recently been restored to his ancestral home by my cousin. I do, however, prefer to sail to Storm's End as soon as it is liberated---”

What followed was a long explanation of the current situation in the Stormlands. Davos was legitimately pleased to see the Targaryen girl kept her little ally appraised of every move made in her future holdings. Not only that, but Shireen had been asked to start corresponding with the nobles of the region, so far with the partial guidance of the old stormlander knight, Ser Barristan Selmy himself.

“I know you are advising the northern King and this is a great honor, but I would like to invite you and your family to officially join my household, Ser Davos.”

This was a request the old smuggler would never dream of turning down.

But before he could accept, Davos would honor the remnants of the Baratheon-Stark alliance and would continue to advise Jon during his stay at Dragonstone.

***

_Starks do not do well in the south._ Jon muttered under his breath, the tray of food that had been served completely forgotten. 

_But I am not a Stark_. 

_I am a Snow_. Jon was snow. 

In the snow, he had died, and from the cold, he had been reborn.

Jon would find a way- he would find a way---

“Your Grace, if I may have a word…”The friendly voice of Ser Davos interrupted Jon´s musings. His highest ranking companions, Ser Marlon Manderley and Brandon Norrey, were by his side, each sitting at the edges of the table, silently eating the food that had been served earlier.

The Queen would only resume Court at noon, they were told.

“Take a seat, Ser Davos. We are breaking our fasts, as you can see.”

Jon had nibbed some of the bread and drank some ale. 

Although he had to admit the slightly sweet flat bread smelled and tasted delicious, food had mostly lost its appeal. 

But meals were opportunities to speak and be spoken to, and now that he was King, it was part of Jon´s duties to be available for such talks. 

“I came from a meeting with Lady Shireen. We spoke at length about Her Grace, the state of her campaign, and the political landscape of Westeros. There is much we have missed…”

Jon agreed with the statement. It would have been wiser to have gathered information before their arrival, but he felt they were running out of time and wanted to get done with it. 

They made only one stop, at The Fingers, where they learned next to nothing, before sailing to Dragonstone. 

“Please, share with us what you have heard, Ser Davos.”

“Her Grace´s troops managed to isolate The Westerlands. Cersei Lannister has King's Landing, but she can no longer count with the grains of the Crownlands..” It pained him to say, but apparently, the situation at King's Landing was nearing a breaking point.

“ Cersei Lannister has declared herself Queen and holds the city hostage. A direct attack would kill thousands, so Her Grace opted for another strategy.”

“A siege?” Jon asked plainly..

“No.” replied the onion knight. “Her Grace is destabilizing the regimen by eliminating some of Cersei´s most trusted advisors first and cutting her communications with possible allies second. The false Maester and the monster at the Queensguard have been slain; some skilled armorers and a couple of pyromancers were taken away in the dead of the night. They are now guests at Dragonstone. “ 

A subtle, yet bold move, of the kind that would only bear fruits later on- when, exactly, was unclear.

“They were happy to come. People are starving. The Sept was destroyed. Cersei is ruling by fear.”

For what Jon had heard of Cersei, fear would always be her first choice.

“ and the other Kingdoms? How do they fare?”

“Her troops are cleaning the Riverlands, from The Twins to the Stoney Sept. It will please you to know, Your Grace, that House Frey is no more.” 

This indeed was good news. Surely, there must have been innocent members of the family, but the Lord of the Crossing had cursed his House before the Gods and this was all the reward he would get from his betrayal. 

“The Reach is firmly on her side, while The Stormlands holds its breath…”

It was a mess. Doran Martell, the late Prince of Dorne, had sent his only daughter and heir to Storm's End, to negotiate with his supposed nephew. All done under secrecy and without proper directives. Princess Arianne Martell married the youth. Troops were sent to march, possibly on King's Landing, but without their own dragon, who had closed himself off at Storm´s End.

“Her Grace and her allies are spreading the news about the Golden Company bringing a new Blackfyre to our shores…” 

Aegon, the boy called himself, the babe that had its head smashed over a wall.

An unlikely story. ”

The boy remains at the Castle. Nobody has seen him in weeks. And this plague is spreading through the Stormlands like wildfire. It is said the fever has been brought from Essos by the sellswords. I believe that. There is also word about an outbreak of greyscale in the Crownlands…”

Just the day before Jon´s arrival, Archmaester Ambrose had arrived from The Citadel, ostensibly to assist the other Archmaester, whose name was Marywn, on containing the spread.

 _If the Martell heir is married to a Blackfyre, then Dorne will support his claim, not Daenerys._ This would be an obvious conclusion to reach. Nonetheless, for what Ser Davos was telling Jon, Dorne had other plans.

_As interesting as it is, discussing the politics of the Martell succession will not bring me anywhere near to convince Daenerys to join forces and go North._

“ Ser Davos “ Jon began. “ thank you for reporting the latest developments. I am glad to know Lady Shireen is well and that my family has been avenged. However, my main focus is to forge an alliance- an alliance, I feel, Her Grace is hesitant to agree to.”

“On the contrary, Your Grace- I believe the Dragon Queen has made absolutely clear she wants to join…” Davos paused for emphasis, then concluded his thought with a single word .“ _you_.”

At the quite obvious jape, both Ser Marlon and Brandon Norrey laughed loudly.

”Aye, the Targaryen girl wants The North and The North is our King.” A knowing smile made Ser Marlon´s position clear: he had no problems with a possible union between the Two Crowns. “ As long as Your Grace is offered co-rulership, the solution is not only obvious but welcomed.”

Although he retained a certain naivité when it came to the give and take aspect of politics, Jon was far from unprepared. He knew many alliances were forged through marriage- had his own father, Ned Stark, not been forced to take his late brother's bride in exchange for her father´s support?

Soldiers and dragons aside, the primordial reason for a union between two people of noble birth was to further one's line, something Jon was not certain he could offer.

“She is the last of her line.” Targaryens had done many important things, good and bad. Personally, it should not matter to Jon, whether Daenerys would have a son or not.

But it did matter to him, whether he could have a son or not.

“ Val has not been avoiding…”

Brandon, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke “...and your seed might have taken root as we speak, Your Grace.”

Davos knew the reason for Jon´s reticence. A couple of private conversations about the singular event the former Lord Commander had experienced provided no clear conclusion.

While there was reason to suspect the worse, there was also a cause for hope in Davo's opinion. 

“Although I am of low birth, I have witnessed the late King negotiating such agreements before. Succession in the event of infertility can be discussed if so you wish, before anything is signed.”

Had it not been for Robb's will and the impending disaster that loomed over them all, Jon would have not entertained the idea- but here he was, considering it. 

Jon waited for his northern companions to finish their meals and asked Davos to join him on a walk at the beach. 

The day was bright, the dragons flew and from a distance, he watched Daenerys , accompanied by the other dragonrider, Missandei, and Shireen, happily chatting with a couple of local children.

“She does seem to have a way with children.” Ser Davos stated as a matter of breaking the silence. “ Especially older ones, like Shireen.”

“I am happy your conversation with Shireen has managed to settle your worries, Ser Davos.”

“ Aye, the little princess is a brave one.” Smiling, the former smuggler pointed out at the skies. “I am terrified of those, but Shireen is obviously entranced by their sight.”

Jon too felt a bit out of sorts around the dragons- but it was not fear he felt, or dread, but rather a strange curiosity, an admiration perhaps…

Davos was right; Shireen had never looked happier:

“When time comes, she will be a great Lady of Storm's End, no doubt. “

Slightly embarrassed, Davos replied “ I am afraid time will come sooner rather than later, Your Grace.” 

***

Jon could hardly claim surprise at Davos' decision, but it came at an auspicious time.

As Davos explained, he was not a soldier. What he could offer was council regarding politics and help Jon in the negotiations.

Then it would be time to restore Shireen to Storm's End, where Davos hoped to remain with his family ( a wife and his only surviving son) when Winter finally came, for he had left them unattended for far too long.

“Your sister, the Lady Sansa- she is your heiress, Your Grace- She made sure to retain her rights to succession, despite the news regarding Rickon and Brandon. This might bring you future troubles, if not properly addressed.”

Jon had quietly sat with the lords in attendance to explain that, as soon as he returned north, they would start searching for his brothers in earnest. “ I am no usurper.” Jon said back then with conviction.

Nobles considered bastards as a threat to the legality of their rules, and he knew it was one of the reasons Lady Catelyn had hated him so much.

While he had wanted to be Lord of Winterfell at some point in his youth, Jon´s priorities had dramatically changed:

“As far as I am concerned, Robb´s will is valid in the event of the deaths of my trueborn brothers, and I intend to keep it this way.”

A discussion erupted. Some Lords, to Jon´s surprise, elected not to believe in the possibility of his brothers survival- and the ones that did believe pointed out that Brandon´s impossibility to father children and Rickon´s adoption by a House they considered slightly above the Free Folk in status had made them both unfit to rule.

Somehow, the discussion ended there, Sansa´s new status as heiress not even being addressed.

“You think my agreement to her request was a mistake.” Jon stated plainly, unbothered by the obvious lack of confidence Ser Davos displayed in Sansa. “ and that this mistake will bite me in the arse.”

“Not if you are smart enough, Your Grace.” Davos gave Jon just one reason why he felt Sansa could not hope to remain Jon´s heiress in the event of his demise, especially if he was wed to Daenerys. 

“ Lord Baelish has her ear- and all Lord Baelish knows to do is to plot.”

Jon could have replied by shrugging it off, but he did not. Personally, he had barely paid the small, smiling fool any mind. The Knights of the Vale he spoke to saw Petyr Baelish as nothing more than a frail-looking man who liked to smirk and munch on mint leaves and Sansa, imperious as always, kept the man on a tight leash. 

For Jon, busy and worried about more important, pressing issues, Lord Baelsih was inconsequential, but he knew to pay mind to Davos ´words. 

“ He can plot all he wants, but he is a guest at Winterfell and I have no intention of allowing his influence to extend from the Vale to Winterfell- but is the Red Keep you worry about.”

“Your Grace, the people have faced too many years of destruction and horrors to enter into another game of thrones once the real enemy is destroyed. Smart your sister maybe, but she is more of the same. She was to become Queen at some point and now she made sure to become a princess. If you leave it that way and, Gods forbid, you and Her Grace both die without issue, Lord Baelish will support Lady Sansa´s bid for the Iron Throne- and more war will ensue. You know for which side I will offer my support, and it will not be your sister.”

Again, Jon would not argue against this assessment. Shireen was Daenerys second cousin. The Baratheon's had a claim to the Throne because of their Targaryen blood. As Lady of Storm´s End, Shireen would have the support of her Lords and, with Ser Davo's guidance, more would come to her side, not because they would be convinced of her claim, but to avoid a northerner woman from taking the Iron Throne.

Moreover, Sansa thought of the White Walkers as nothing more than as a nuisance. To her, it was only a matter of defeating them again, as if there was some kind of hidden recipe within Winterfell they could replicate. She made it sound very easy, very trivial, when it was anything but. 

It was understandable. Sansa was not a general. She had no true knowledge of how were fought. In her mind, a couple of battles here and there and the problem was solved.

But so many things could go wrong in a war where the soldiers had nothing to lose because they were dead already.

“ What is your advice, Ser Davos?”

“Mutuality. As your wife, Daenerys can be named your heir; as her husband, you can be named hers. If you do not have any children, either agree on a single name to sit on the Iron Throne, make your choice be given support, or confirm the secession of The North and their right to regulate their own affairs- their succession included.”

Would this be enough? Merely signing papers?

Lord Renly Baratheon ignored thousands of years of tradition by usurping his older brother´s legal claim because it suited him…

The only guarantee the land would remain united in the fight against the Walkers and peaceful when they were defeated was to have an heir- a heir Jon doubted he would be able to produce. 

And he wanted it...he truly, really wanted it.

“It would be easier...to have a son”.

Jon said in a low tone, trying to hide the hurt.

Ser Davos nodded, a gentle smile on his lips: 

“ or a daughter, Your Grace- girls are important, too!”

***

“Is the golden one gone?” Jhiqui asked Daenerys as she helped the Queen change into more formal attire.

“Yes.” _only fo_ _ _r a_ time,_ _I hope_. “It would be unassuming to have a lover loitering as I engage in marriage negotiations.”

“The Khal from the North?” 

“Not a Khal- a King.” Daenerys rectified, but in truth, the titles were very similar all things considered. “ They follow him not because he is the strongest, but because of whom his father was.”

 _Rhaegar- his father was Rhaegar._ Would Jon ever feel this way about Daenery's brother? 

She doubted it. Rhaegar was not alive to make up for all the years lost...the years in which Jon had called Ned Stark, the man who raised him, his father.

Regardless, Rhaegar was Jon´s father, a romantic fool that lost everything to have Jon be conceived and be born.

This knowledge, that he was all that left from Rhaegar, and that the great lengths his parents had gone to have him, would surely weight heavily on Jon´s shoulders once the truth came out, Daenerys thought.

_I only hope it was worth it, that Jon was worth it._

Once the braids were done, Daenerys made it to her study. There, she met with Ser Barristan for half an hour, going through the issues of the day: 

“Lady Olenna has been detained at The Reach. Oldtown reconstruction will be slow.”

Euron had destroyed between a fourth or a third of Oldtown. Daenerys felt they could use the tragedy as to engage in serious urban development plan- sanitation was not beyond their current engineering abilities, the treatment of water something she also felt it could be done if it were made to be a priority- but the Maesters working on it would need more time, which was expected.

Renovations business only looked simple on Youtube channels.

Archmaester Ambrose would surely be needed at the Stormlands. There the plague had hit the hardest and many great things depended on the success of their stormland´s strategy.

Daenerys would have to move soon. Ending the lockdown on Storm´s End had was part of her alliance with the Prince of Dorne and ending the invasion of the Stormlands by the Golden Company would be the beginning of Shireen´s rule as a Lady Paramount. 

Now it was time to discuss another alliance- the most important one: 

_“_ Ser Davos Seaworth is King Jon´s premier advisor. I would like you to meet with him for the first round of negotiations, to hear what they need from us, and to inform them what we want from them and work on an offer. “

Daenerys stated her intention was to meet with Jon personally and privately, to discuss the pact further, picking up from here Selmy and Davos left off.

“ My wish is not to waste any more time and have this wedding happen in the coming weeks.”

The old knight cleared his throat, face turning a pale shade of red. “When the bride has been recently widowed, it is customary to wait months until the wedding is consummated, as to ensure the paternity of the children born out of the union…”

Since Hizdahr had been dead for over four months, Daenerys understood this was Ser Barristan´s roundabout way of addressing her relationship with Aurane.

Rather than keeping up the subterfuge, Daenerys chose to directly answer the unasked question: “ Aurane has been married for six weeks. I have not laid with him, nor anybody since.” 

While she could keep the affair a secret, Daenerys considered the implications: rumors about infidelity and cuckolding were the bane of every dynasty.

It was not her wish to add more fuel to the fire:

“ Your concern is valid, Ser Barristan. There is no need to worry about this particular detail- I will address the issue myself with Jon. .”

“Regarding the other issue, Your Grace- the looming threat of a Long Night- I take this has been one of the topics of discussion with the Archmaester. Have you, perchance, reached a conclusion on how to fight such an enemy, or is the situation not as dire as King Jon painted?”

“Negative to both questions, dear Ser.” Probably one of the only positives of being returned to a backward place like Westeros was that people were far more open not to question the existence of supernatural forces than in a world dominated by science.

This was good news since it would be tiring, to speak about ice demons with Ser Barristan trying not to look too crazy or too dumb.

“For now, we will focus on the matter at hand. As soon as we have accomplished what we need to, we move North, and see it for ourselves.”

***

“Her Grace accepts our proposal.” 

Even the perennially positive Davos had been happily surprised at how things had evolved, going from the misfortune of an avoidable diplomatic misstep one day to drawing the basics of a marriage pact the next day. 

“ In fact, for what Ser Barristan said, what we had in mind was exactly what she would have offered us.”

“Good.” Jon would rather have it all over him sooner than later. 

Three dragons was better than no dragon at all, he reminded himself.

Oddly, Jon had found the prospect not as daunting. Watching Daenerys from afar, interacting with little ones, had given him hope.

She was not all fire and blood. There was sweetness there too, as her attitude towards Shireen showed them, a sweetness that Val lacked and that, in turn, made Jon feel a certain emotional disconnect from his paramour.

_Val---how many times had she asked for Shireen to be put down?_

“ The girl is not clean” Val would say...

It had shocked him then, and it shocked him now- but it was the ways of her people. In Val´s head, what she was proposing was not a cruel act, but a merciful one. The Free Folk believed in many things, and some had been proved to be true, but they did not know masters and healers like westerosi did, so Val´s fears, while understandable, did little to endear her to Jon as he supposed a man should feel towards a wife.

In spite of such grave, basic disagreement, Jon could not have asked for a better companion than Val at that stage of his life. He was fond of her. He respected her. He cared for her.

But he did not love her.

He could not love any woman capable of cruelty towards children.

“Her Grace wants to meet with you and discuss further _details_ , I am told. “

Jon did not miss the emphasis on the word details, nor the pronounced way in which Davos raised his left eyebrow, as if Jon would be incapable of getting the hint.

Subtleties, however, were not to Jon´s palate.

“ She has been married twice before. I do not expect her to be a virgin, nor do I care. This should save us both from embarrassment...”

Both his previous partners had been far more knowledgeable than Jon; had he wanted an untouched, blushing maiden of noble birth, he would have accepted one of the half a dozen offers he had received from his bannermen.

“In private, Your Grace- Her Grace wants to meet you _in private_.”

A high born woman unafraid of servants gossip? 

“When exactly?”

***

They took a long walk on the beach while the Sun was setting. This was Daenerys idea. A joke really: nothing was more cliché than a couple taking a romantic stroll on a white sand beach, discussing marriage to boot.

Only humor could save her from a depression...

“This was a good compromise, Your Grace- we are speaking in private, but not alone.” Jon said as he looked around, watching people watching them..

“The venue was not chosen in observance to polite society rules, I must tell, Your Grace.” Daenerys quickly glanced at Missandei, who had joined Ser Barristan and Ser Davos at the balcony, where they were being observed. 

“Do you mind if we address each other by our first names when we are not at Court? I tell Ser Barristan this every time we meet, but he says it takes him out of his duties if we do so, therefore he only addresses me this way when we are not speaking business…”

Never one to be completely comfortable when on display, to Join this would not be difficult.

“So _Daenerys_ , tell me: if not for the sake of your reputation, why are we being observed?”

“It is for the sake of _your_ reputation, Jon.” As he let out a shy smile, which meant he obviously took the reply as a jest, Daenerys elaborated. “ They say many things about me, things that can be misconstructed and reconstructed as veiled aggressions and slander- if we were to meet at closed doors, Jon, some would say I seduced you, implying our agreement is not a legitimately good deal for both parties.”

Jon knew at least two people capable of thinking as much, he would not deny it. 

“ Ser Davos said you have agreed to our terms. Nobody would deny this is to the North´s great advantage- anyone thinking the contrary would be a fool.”

“Politics are often conducted by narrow-minded, stupid people- or maybe, people smart enough to use other´s narrow-mindedness and stupidity to their advantage.”

Again, Daenerys was far from wrong; however, Jon needed more clarity:

“ What is that you wanted to discuss?”

“I heard rumors about why and how you left your post at the Night's Watch. While we can adjust the timeline so that the narrative is that you went to Winterfell only to discuss matters relevant to the Watch and found himself declared King, thus being excused from your vows, I am of opinion that a marriage should be based upon a foundation of truth- and I would like the truth.”

And she was lying already...

Daenerys had not heard anything. 

The northerners that came were as tight-lipped as she expected them to be, but the lie was plausible enough. 

But it had been the only way she found to break the subject of Jon´s resurrection without revealing too much. 

“You would not believe me…”

Daenerys could barely contain a laugh.

“ I walked into a lit pyre without the flames or the fumes killing me, and came out with three hatched dragons- trust me, if somebody should believe, is me. “

After that, Jon finally told her what she wanted to hear.

***

“Your Grace, how many days were you…. _dead_?”

Jon looked from Daenerys to the Archmaester- Marwyn- and to Daenerys again. 

“Is this relevant?” Jon´s uneasiness was palpable.

Daenerys was the one to answer him :“Yes and no. The decay process starts even before death. Once something is lost, it remains this way. You are reborn less than you were before. That is why your body needs less food, less sleep...”

“Mayhaps, as Her Grace pointed out, we need to focus on the changes you have noticed and that can be easily quantified. We need to know the differences before and after. Meals, hours of sleep... _intercourse_ …”

Jon squirmed at the mention of his sexual habits. Before Marwyn could press for more information, Daenerys dismissed him. 

“ Archmaester, would you please wait at the antechamber? I must have a word with His Grace.”

Daenerys also stood up, walking side by side with Marwyn. 

When they reached the door, she greeted the Unsullied guards outside and addressed a person Jon could not see in a foreign tongue.

“ I am asking Irri, my handmaid, to join us.” 

A copper skinned, little young woman, of age with Daenerys, crossed the door frame, taking a seat at a wooden chair nearby, as instructed by the queen. 

“ Not to worry, Irri´s command of the Common Tongue is not broad enough for her to understand us.”

  
Quick to read Daenery's intentions, Irri just stared dumbly at Jon. The dragon queen breathed in relief; Jhiqui would have found it especially difficult to play along, as she was very proud of her growing confidence in the tongue of Westeros.

“Have you left someone behind at Winterfell and is afraid of telling us? Is that why you did not want to answer the question? Or were you mortified because of the oaths you swore? Marwyn is the least judgemental person I know, if it is...”

“No- it is nothing like that.” Years at the Wall had Jon convinced any men would find a way out of oaths deemed too burdensome if needed arose- even himself.

Had he not slept with Ygritte on the account of his being a spy among the Free Folk?

By the Old Gods, even Samwell have done it.

“ My vows, I broke them more than once, Daenerys. A woman beyond the wall, years ago.”

“And after you left, did you take lovers? Did you notice changes in this part of your life too?”

Uncomfortable as it was, now that both Daenerys and the maester had explained this was part of their assessment on his fertility, a much relevant point, Jon decided it would be for the best to leave his misgivings behind.

“I left a woman behind, yes. We only started on the way to Winterfell, three moon turns past. She is not with a child- at least that I know. As for changes I noticed... I have been more... _enthusiastic_ than before.”

Daenerys refrained from asking more about this relationship.This was all they needed to know. 

Whatever measure of privacy and dignity she could afford him, she would.

***

“ I am sorry, Jon. I know it is not easy to give up the person you love…”

Such concern regarding one´s personal feelings was so rare that Jon was taken aback. 

Had he said something that indicated his feelings for Val ran deeper or was Daenerys one of those naive women, assuming there was more than the mixture of physical relief and mutual respect they had for one another?

Jon gave Daenerys a second, more searching look, as she continued to speak. 

Sadness was what he found behind her eyes.

She was sad...and not for him.

_She has given up the one she loves for this alliance._

Jon would have wanted to know more, but refrained from asking. It would only bring unnecessary suffering. 

Daenerys was a Queen and he, a King; their responsibilities would always come first.

He had never expected to have a wife, let alone a family, neither before joining the Watch, nor after, because of his bastardy.

The life of a bastard was a hard one and Jon would not have wished this on any children.

Now that he was King, things have changed. He had been legitimized by Robb´s will. Still, Jon had have time to seriously consider the idea. Brandon and Rickon were both alive and, once he found them, the succession to Winterfell would be decided.

Back then, Jon reasoned, any children he might have would only bring more complications to an already complicated situation- and he still had Sansa to contend with.

Ser Davos reported that, when informed of the possibility Jon might give up his inheritance in favor of his legitimate brothers, Ser Barristan excused himself to speak with the Queen, who was working on an adjoining room.

It did not take long for the old Knight to return. 

“ Her Grace says it does not matter who is Lord of Winterfell, as long as the pact is signed. As a legitimized bastard, Jon is the only male member of House Stark old enough to wed. If indeed Brandon and Rickon Stark are alive, they will remain North and rule from there, in the name of the Queen and her Co-ruler, the King.”

***

Acting on an impulse, Jon lifted his hand, placing it gently on Daenerys right shoulder:

“We should not waste precious time and wed as soon as possible.”

He did not want to think about the man she had given up, or the woman he had left behind.

Was Jon being selfish? Mayhaps- but he had forgotten how he was supposed to behave.

In Winterfell, it was easy to remember. 

But here, in the south, as far away as he had ever been from the cold North? Jon felt himself changing already, and even his connection with Ghost had weakened under the dim sunlight of Dragonstone. 

Neither his father´s kindness nor Lady Stark´s coldness had prepared Jon to live such troubled existence. 

He had been brought back to life, but why? Jon´s feelings on the matter were constantly changing. At the Wall, it made little sense to him. He could not have stayed. Something told him to leave. Therefore, his role as Lord Commander could not be the answer to this conundrum, because he was Lord Commander no more.

Then, at Winterfell, once the Lords learned of Robb´s will and of the White Walkers return, Jon´s kingship seemed to be a sign. The Crown did not sit well on him, as he had not given hope of restoring Bran and Rickon, but he was an able bodied man with significant military experience and the decision to give him the command of the northern defenses, in his eyes, justified, at least partially, his own resurrection and subsequent new status as King.

But now, Jon was there- and so was Daenerys.

_I never dreamed of being King….but I dreamt once of becoming a father...._

“Are you certain that is what you want, Jon?” 

It was.

***

“ I have been widowed recently. Ser Barristan mentioned it is customary, in those cases, for the groom to wait longer.” 

Daenerys' insistence on following rules to avoid future problems could work against them. The less they spent engaging in such frivolities, the better. 

They could count on the Lords of Westeros starting their wars once again after the world was saved from white walkers if they failed to produce an heir- nobody would respect a will when the ultimate prize- the Iron Throne- was up for grabs.

Time was a precious commodity. As with women, age and health problems directly affects men´s fertility. The count and quality of sperm take a nosedive after the forties, Daenerys read it once, and, if the changes experienced by Jon post-resurrection were anything to go by, it meant his metabolism was one of an older man.

“ We need your strength and you need our support. The North is poor and I might not even be their King once this all is over- the minimum I can do is try and give you an heir.”

 _That is surely a way of seeing it_ , Daenerys said to herself, wondering how exactly they could speed things up. 

“ I see you have traveled without a maester. Is there a healer, or a nurse among your retinue you trust? “

She was having her period- maybe a couple of months of providing them proof she was not carrying another man´s babe would suffice?

“An old woman from Winterfell called Heta came with us to do the wash. She brought many babies into the world.”

“Good.” replied Daenerys as she stood up. “ Please have her at my chambers for an examination. Ser Davos and another man of your choice are to be present- a well placed panel will cover my nudity, but they will be able to hear us, make sure it is not a trick. We can wed after my next moonblood.”

Since Jon knew her husband had been a Meereenese noble who died during a squirmish, and he assumed her lover had also been left there, so this precaution was, in his opinion, unnecessary. 

“If you are worried about what nobles might say…”

“Nobles will talk,yes, but there is nothing I can do to prevent them from indulging in gossip. I am happy to ignore them if they are not on the way. “ 

Daenerys paused for a long moment, choosing her next words carefully.

“ We need to trust one another, speak to each other, support each other.” She finally said, his dark eyes completely focused on her. “ We might disagree on occasion, or not share every little thought and feeling we might have, but if this marriage is to work, Jon...if we are to have children, we must be honest with each other.”

“I need to make an admission, Jon: I gave up someone. Very recently...almost two moonturns past…”

_This happened as soon as she arrived on Westeros then...when I had not been made King yet._

Daenerys, on the other hand, had been Queen for quite a long time- and a Queen in need of a husband, he reminded himself. 

Indeed, Jon was far from the only candidate she might have considered. There were others, like the Prince of Dorne, unmarried and lord over many thousands spear, and she had visited him on different occasions, he had heard...

But she was not speaking about the Prince... 

The other man, Jon concluded, had no titles nor influence. 

“ You left your paramour behind on Volantis?”

“No. At Driftmark.” 

***

Perhaps it would be easier to just speak about it, pretend it did not bother her still?

If Daenerys was going to be honest, she should be honest all the way. 

Now that she had already gone there, what more could she lose? 

Actually, Daenerys had only to gain by continuing to be honest. 

“I married him off to his aunt.” 

Establishing that such marriages were not as disturbing as one would assume would prevent family reunions from getting awkward.

To make the point abundantly clear, Daenerys added:

“It is certainly not as shocking to Westeros as marriage between a brother and a sister. I heard such unions are rather common, actually. House Stark , if memory serves, has seen at least two of these couples…”

Judging by Jon´s unimpressed reaction- he had probably heard the story a thousand times, Daenerys supposed- the reveal would not be a problem.

***

“We need to move. “

Now that their position was firmly established, Daenerys decided it was time to resume scouting rather than simply paying a visit to her political allies.

In scouting, Daenerys finally located Jon Connington and his troops.

“ They are nearing King's Landing.”

“Your Grace. “ Ser Jorah interjected as Daenerys moved the pieces on the painted table. “ You should consider attacking the Red Keep while our soldiers deal with the Blackfyre forces outside the gates.”

Daenerys had no intention in doing so, but was interested in seeing what her advisors would say. 

“ Ser Barristan, do you agree?”

“It would be the fastest way of winning the war, Your Grace, but necessarily the best.”

It was definitely an option, she had to admit it. Since that odious man, the Frankenstein wannabe had been murdered at her orders, Daenerys could trust no ballistas would harm her dragons, nor Missandei…

But the wildfire…. The pyromancers she had at Dragonstone had confirmed there was more to be used at Cersei´s disposal, but since they had been spirited away, the Lannister Queen could very well had moved the dangerous weapons, or spread them around evenly in the city.

It was too big of a risk to take. 

“ I would prefer to use my dragons on the open fields. Attacking cities always brings unforeseen problems, and we need to deal with Aegon in a decisive matter, _not_ Jon Connington.”

A letter from the dornish had arrived that same day. As promised, their troops had reached Storm's End, and they waited for her to begin negotiations.

Trystane was to be confirmed as Prince of Dorne. Arianne had lost her right to Sunspear the minute she married a claimant to the Iron Throne in a bid to become Queen Consort and, even if this was not true, Daenerys would not have Dorne be Aegon´s private little kingdom- this would be a recipe for disaster.

“We successfully cut off Cersei from the rest of Westeros, isolating her not only politically, but geographically. We should do the same with Aegon- we move our troops to the outskirts of King's Landing, and block their soldiers from joining the rest of their forces in the Stormlands.”

It would be messy, Daenerys could feel in her bones.

Tyrion had returned a day earlier. She would be in need of his skills as her ambassador very soon, probably while she was at Storm's End, hopefully convincing Aegon and Ariane to surrender.

Archmaester Ambrose too would be useful. Daenerys would bring him and Marwyn with her to Storm's End. since the area had been the most affected by the fever and they would need all the help they could to clean the area before Shireen was to move.

“ When do we leave?” Daenerys heard Jon asking from his seat, on the exact opposite of hers. 

Managing to hide her surprise, Daenerys replied. 

“ Today.”  
  


***

Jon was tired, a thousand drums playing inside his head. His body ached from all the exercise of the day, but his mind was, as ever, alert and suspicious.

In the morrow...he whispered to himself as a lullaby…

_In the morrow._

This whole march had been a test to his nerves, but in the end, they had managed to stay relatively hidden while they built their weapons. The battering rams included canopies to protect the soldiers from being attacked and the catapults would be launching incendiary projectiles onto the battlements.

He would not fail this time, Jon told himself…

_He would not fail._

And, when the next day finally arrived and they moved to attack and Jon Connington saw the dragons flying in the distance and heard the bells ringing, he gave his men their orders. 

“ Let us rain fire on them...let us burn them all.”

And they did...and it was awful. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to delete three comments already...why?  
> they were not insulting but did not add anything and went against my present comments policy. The first was asking me to edit the tags if this is not a jonerys endgame ( dude, this chapter is all about Daenerys and Jon, and disclaimer is stating I am no longer going to engage eith the tag police)  
> the second was actually misplaced, a guy asking if this was a jonerys fic ( read the tags and notes, duh)  
> the third was someone making a joke about Daenerys stans being unfair to Jon as unfair as DnD apparently, and saying I was going to bash Jon because it is a self insert, so I deleted because I am not doing what the guy said I was doing, and was too lazy to engage.


	6. Storm´s End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storm´s end is retaken and Shireen gets her home back
> 
> Daenerys and Jon get married with the unwanted assistance of Marwyn, the Mage.

Daenerys gut feeling had been to attack Storm's End first, deal with Aegon in order to establish Shireen as Lady Paramount of the Stormlands as soon as possible and solve the impasse over Ariane´s inheritance all before she was to turn her attentions to King's Landing and Jon Connington, reasoning that, if Aegon capitulated, Connington would too.

This, however, proved to be a mistake that blew on her face.

Daenerys had avoided the easist solution- to fly over the city and burn the Red Keep- precisely not to accidentally set the cachets of wildfire. Despite interviewing the pyromancers, they still had no idea how much more of the substance there was, or if Cersei had moved them and to where.

In the end,it did not even matter- the city burned anyway.

***

“The bells…” Missandei heard Daenerys blurt out as they landed on the outskirts of King's Landing, watching the green flames engulfing the southern gate.

They had been scouting the lands in support of their troops, since about half of the soldiers stationed at the Reach were moving to the Stormlands in preparation for the retaking of the Baratheon´s seat when it occurred to Missandei they should widen the scope of their mission as to prevent any attack coming from their rear.

They thought it was good policy not to write Cersei´s completely off- The Westerlands were still nominally on her side- only to have disconsidered Jon Connington´s zeal in defeating the ursurper.

The next day saw both dragonriders frantically flying back and forth to change their already changed plans, guiding the nearest battalions not south to Storm's End, but west, and also trying to organize the escape of civilians while assisting with the injured by having the healers that came with the troops set up a makeshift hospital.

But the damage had been so great that they barely scratch the surface, and Daenerys felt even more guilty of not acting sooner.

When they finally arrived at Storm's End, seven days had passed.

***

The first face Daenerys saw when she dismounted was Jon´s, who helped her come down from the dragon, relieving her of the heavy weight she had been carrying on her back :

“ What happened?” Jon asked as he guided Daenerys towards the tent that was housing their war council meetings. 

“Later.” Daenerys replied, pointing at the large backpack Jon carried. “ I need to leave my things at my tent.” 

“ The Dornish are impatient…”

“An expected reaction, all things considered.” 

It did not take much long,, only enough time to leave her things at the tent, which was being attended by two guards, take off her breastplace and wash her face in the basin.

When they finally entered the war room tent, Daenerys was quick to greet the people inside, both the familiar faces and the new ones.

In addition to Ser Barristan, Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, Rhakaro and Jon´s own small council, they were joined by Ser Garth Hightower, who had just arrived and looked very tired, and Ser Manfrey Martell, who Daenerys knew must have been waiting for her for days, and looked mildly displeased.

Without preamble, Daenerys sweetly asked: “Is there any reason other than my late arrival, good Ser, for such an uncomfortable look on your face?”

Ser Manfrey at least had the good grace not to deny it and cover her with empty pleasantries. 

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but Dorne is in mourning for yet another great loss. My foul mood has nothing to do with your late arrival- this is not my first war and I am aware delays are to be expected..”

_ Mourning ? Is Arianne dead? Did I come too late? _

Daenerys took a deep breath, preparing herself for more bad news. “ Has Aegon dared to---”

“Oh no, Your Grace…the ship carrying Prince Quentyn´s remains and the heir to the Blood Royal came to our shores in pieces…”

Eyes cast down, Daenerys covered her mouth with her right hand, taking yet another deep breath. 

She had assumed the dornish knights had arrived, that they had only been delayed by storms...not that they had perished in the sea.

Would the terrible surprises never end?

“ I am very sorry to hear, Ser Manfrey...it seems the last days have not been kind to any of us.”

Daenerys told them about King´s Landing. For the next hour, she went into great detail about Jon Conington, the Golden Company and the wildfire destruction they caused. 

“ We need to send reinforcements as the situation is still volatile. Part of the walls collapsed and many managed to flee. The city is literally wide open, with the bulk of the Lannister soldiers surrounding the Red Keep.”

“We should move and take the city while it is most vulnerable, Your Grace.” Ser Jorah stated plainly, seemingly unbothered by Daenerys account of the events, a position that many in that tent shared, as per the sounds of approval ushered by Ser Garth, Ser Davos and Rhakaro.

This indifference to human suffering from her advisors would have shocked Daenerys had she not been aware they were soldiers first and foremost- they all considered smallfolk as collateral damage to be the rule, not the exception in wars.

Although she recognized they were just trying not help, Daenerys wanted them to consider the full picture before advising her to take a more ruthless approach:

“Cersei is still there, still holed up at the Red Keep, with more soldiers and even more wildfire. If we move,the price for her defeat might be the city itself.”

Before her advisors could state their clear objections, Jon spoke up :

“I have heard many things about the Lannister Queen and I have met her once. She would be capable of burning the whole of King's Landing so that nobody else would have it. This game is a dangerous one and, if we are not careful, we might all die by fire before winter comes…”

Ser Barristan, who knew Cersei better than anyone present, agreed with Jon´s opinion. “ Cersei Lannister will do what her Lord Father would do, which is to crush every opposition that came her way with brutal force, with no hesitation, nor remorse- we need to find another way.”

Daenerys silently thanked Jon and Ser Barristan for the support, as she considered any discussion about King´s Landing that minimized the danger Cersei represented to be a waste of time.

Not to mention, she was grateful not to have to utter that dumb comment about not wanting to be the Queen of Ashes, as it turned out to be only a joke in the context of the show, just slightly subtle in its supposedly foreshadowing of the exact opposite than the other option, which she believed it must have been considered, which would have to been to immediately cut from this scene to the half an hour sequence of Daenerys single handedly burning the entire city, wildfire, logic and common human decency be dammed.

_ Thank you for nothing, DnD. _

_ *** _

But Daenerys had a plan for Cersei- and her plan called for a certain dwarf.

The Queen turned to her Hand, and asked about Tyrion Lannister´s whereabouts. “ I have not seen him.”

“We left lord Tyrion at Dragonstone, Your Grace, where we thought he could be more useful.” 

_ Fuck me sideways.  _

King's Landing would have to wait then- Tyrion was absolutely vital to her efforts.

But Storm´s End would be theirs sooner rather than later:

“ There is another reason for my delayed return: we captured important prisoners, people Aegon would- or  _ should _ \- care about. We had to move more slowly for this reason. I left Missandei behind to provide them with with aerial support and flew here- they should be half a day away.”

Daenerys innovations on war gear had given her troops the advantage of speed; normally, this journey would have taken them twice as long, even with good weather.

Ser Garret, who had been mostly silent, complimented Daenerys on the move: “Prisoners are always in high demand and can be used to advance our cause, Your Grace- this will surely force Aegon´s hands.” 

Ser Manfrey nodded in agreement. His good mood partially recovered, he filled his goblet with dornish sour and drawled from his seat. 

“ Our princess and her retinue are still behind those walls. We must try and keep them from harm. Mayhaps, we can request prisoners to be exchanged? Am I right in assume Your Grace has captured any nobles, high ranking officers perchance?”

“ Yes.” Jon Conninton was a name everybody in that tent instantly recognized- Harry Strickland, less so.

“However. “ Daenerys added with conviction: “ I doubt Aegon would consider his wife to be a prisoner, Ser Manfrey.. _.unless _ , you meant we should ask him to release Arianne´s retinue instead of her?”

If Daenerys remembered correctly, a daughter of the late Prince Oberyn had travelled with Arianne, and like her cousin, had not been heard of ever since they locked themselves at Storm's End and stopped communications with Sunspear.

“Indeed, Your Grace.” Ser Manfrey replied, adding that the girl´s mother, Lady Ellaria, was very eager to be reunited with her daughter, as was her cousin, the Prince.

Noticing that Daenerys would probably agree with the dornishman´s strategy, Ser Barristan decided to voice a couple of reservations before a choice was made. 

“While the idea has its merits, we must consider that Aegon might feel less than charitable towards Jon Connignton once he learns of this ill advised attack on King's Landing...this act did cost him the Crown he was raised to believe to be his, Your Grace.”

_ Not only plausible, but highly possible, _ Daenerys thought with herself.

An infiltration mission, like they had done in Meereen and, in a much smaller scale, at King's Landing, was briefly discussed before being discarded, as Greyworm believed it to be an impossible task : 

“ They say they entered the castle through...passages? The Golden Company are good soldiers. They must have those passages blocked, not only guarded.”

“Should we send men to probe their defenses?” Jon proposed.

It would have been a good idea if only Daenerys was not fearful of losing some of her men, or even worse, risk them falling in the hands of the enemy and being tortured for information.

But Daenerys was not without ideas... She was unsure of it- whether her advisors would be against her plan, consider it too risky...

It could backfire. Daenerys did not know Aegon...did not know how he would react…

But this plan was all she got, and it was a chance at solving things peacefully.

“ We wait until the prisoners arrive, then we send word to Aegon.”

***

“Jon. “ Daenerys started as soon as they left the tent. “ How would you react if you learned that your whole life had been a lie, nothing but a lie? That even your name was not yours?”

Perfectly aware this question reeked of “ foreshadowing” (ugh), Daenerys had no intention of assessing how Jon would react to the news, but rather understand how a man of this place and age, one who would be born and raised to place great importance on names, titles and family, would react when learning he had been used about all those things. 

In all honesty, Daenerys had no idea how far down the rabbit hole one could go in these circumstances... what would be socially accepted or even expected when learning one belongs not to one Noble House, but to another?

Would this even matter, one way or the other?

“Why do you ask such things?” 

They arrived at her tent, where they greeted the guards, who observed them sit at the table and speak.

They would not have much time to talk. Ser Davos and Ser Barristan would be joining them for supper, to speak more in depth about Daenerys idea.

“In the absence of palpable proof that Aegon is not a Targaryen, some opposed to my rule could insist his being a Blackfyre was but a convenient lie spun by me to discredit the real prince… _ except  _ “ Daenerys pointed at the large, shapeless leather bag resting on a makeshift bed “ I now have proof.”

Daenerys rose first, tilting her head for Jon to follow her

From within the backpack,she retrieved a long object, covered in a black and red cloth, which she unwrapped.

Jon knew it to be a sword- but not  _ the _ sword.

For a moment everything stopped and Jon could not believe his eyes.

“ You are familiar with Valyrian Steel.”

Large it was, one hand and a half, but also light and deadly, the red stone was a ruby, and Jon admired the heads of the dragon, with eyes of deep red.

“Blackfyre” Jon said as he held the blade under Daenerys watchful eyes.

***

Jon had yet to regain his composure when Daenerys pressed for an answer to her original question. 

“It depends. “Jon answered quietly. “Lies are told for a reason. Bad or good, there must be a reason behind it.”   


Daenerys agreed, but this short answer was actually another question - and perhaps, it was also too optimistic in its simplicity to give her any clarity.

But she answered him to the best of her abilities:

“His father lied to him for political gain, absolutely no consideration for his feelings or wants- would you say this was a good reason ?”

“ _ No _ . “ Jon answered with conviction. “ If Aegon is more than an ambitious, ruthless would be Prince who wants nothing but a Throne to sit, the truth of his origins will deeply affect him.”

Daenerys then came closer to Jon. He looked very fierce, almost savage, holding the sword...a sword that actually, also belonged to him.

She raised her hand and touched the blade- she had not had time to really appreciate the beauty of the weapon since she took it from Harry Strickland´s shaking hands. 

“ I don't know if I---”

***

Barristan Selmy and Davos Seaworth stood by the door and watched the scene unable to move or speak. 

“ I don't know if I---” Daenerys was telling Jon, both of them holding the sword.

A smile escaped Ser Barristan´s lips:

Blackfyre had been returned to its rightful owner.

They would finally know peace

Without the famed sword back in their possession to be passed down through generations, the Targaryens would never face rebellion from their distant cousins again.

No sword, no claim.

Symbolic speaking at least.

***

Thankfully, Ser Davos was the first to recover from the shock, clearing his throat loudly enough as to address the couple:

“ _ You Grace? _ ”

An obviously embarrassed Jon could only mutter a “Oh” before Ser Barristan came forward. 

“ Your Grace “ the old knight began, a hint of hesitation in his voice “  _ may I _ ?”

Without a word, Jon handed Ser Barristan the sword. While the warrior of the Stormlands wanted to do nothing more than to admire the splendid craftsmanship, maybe even test the absurd sharpness of the blade, the future of his country depended on him keeping his eyes on the prize and concentrating on their most immediate problems:

“I suppose the Golden Company would have gifted him the sword once the war was won, their generals got their lands and their imposter, the Crown.”

This was their plan, yes, Harry Strickland told her.

“ A _ Fait accompli,  _ yes.”

They all stared at Daenerys, confused beyond belief.

_ Shit. _ “ French...a very, very old, forgotten Tongue from the Far East? “ She lied effortlessly.

“ It means something that has been done and cannot be undone. Once Aegon defeated his enemies, forged his alliances and sat on the Iron Throne, his true name would not have mattered anymore. “

Ser Davos mentioned his concerns over safety and health hazards when dealing with Aegon or anyone who had stayed too long inside the castle. Between travelling the lands and making camp outside Storm's End, it became clear the initial greyscale and fever outbreak seemed to have originated from the Castle, and some precautions should be observed in case of a face to face meeting, which was obviously Daenerys intentions with the sword.

“Your Grace, now that we know exactly the reason you wanted to wait for the Golden Company prisoners to arrive, are you  _ still _ willing to meet with Aegon in person? Mayhaps he will not react to this news in a good way- it could be dangerous in many ways.“

Daenerys had come to the same conclusion. Not only they did not know of what Aegon would be capable of, but also, If greyscale was anywhere similar to leper, the window between first exposure, incubation and extended contagion fit a timeline in which Jon Conninton might have infected Aegon way before their arrival to Westeros, and the young man, clueless to his foster father´s secret, would only have noticed his own infection after his marriage.

Depending on how extensively their quarantine had been, it could not be safe to initiate contact for a few weeks…

Despite all the concern, the situation could not be allowed to go on indefinitely. 

King's Landing and Cersei notwithstanding, Dorne awaited an answer and Shireen, a new home.

“Once the prisoners arrive, we will send proof they are here and that we want to treat with them. Rules for a meeting will be agreed upon. We will demand proper observance of social distancing to be observed, as per Archmaester Ambrose suggestion.”

Daenerys would not go anywhere near Aegon without her mask. She remembered how those stupid alt right politicians whined and cried over the ignomny of wearing masks, defied common sense and willingly went to congregate in closed spaces, where many caught the same plague they deemed to be a hoax, all this before shit  _ really  _ hit the fan and she probably died from it, just to wake up in Essos.

No matter how important this meeting would be, Daenerys would not, under any circumstances, die from a plague again.

“When the criteria is met, we will meet- and I will make Aegon an offer he can't refuse.”

_ An offer he can't refuse? _

The words came out of her mouth before she even thought of them. 

Daenerys had just spoke like a true villain- maybe, no matter how much Lord of the Rings cosplay she wore, some of that stupid and heavy handed Michelle Clapton imagenry had rubbed off on her.

_ Well, here is hoping I dont grow a thin pencil moustache and starts twitching everytime I have another villanesque moment. _

“Your Grace, if you are thinking about offering Aegon to keep Blackfyre…”

“No- not at all.” Daenerys replied Ser Barristan. “ I am not about to allow Aegon to profit out of a shared ancestor´s mistakes. I came to Westeros because I have the tools to make changes- changes that will benefit the whole of the realm, not only a handful of nobles. Leaving the door open for further rebellion and war is the exact opposite of what I intend in doing.”

***

“Tell him what you did.”

Cruel, yet necessary. Daenerys believed Aegon had to hear it from Jon Connington, his foster father, and Harry Strickland, his general, so that the young man would know it was not a lie she was telling him, from King´s Landing burning to the Blackfyre conspiracy, the end of his dreams and aspirations- the end of his world. 

The blue dye had completely worn off. Aegon carried himself with as much dignity as he could muster, and heard the whole thing without interrupting it once.

To Daenerys, Aegon seemed resigned.

To Jon, Aegon looked defeated.

Three dragons flying over the skies, not one of them to be his mount, the young man thought

What is a Targaryen without dragons?

Or a Blackfyre without the sword?

They met upon Durran´s Point, near the place Storm´s End had been infiltrated. Daenerys had demanded a table to be set in the middle, but not touched- it would separate both parties. Three steps away, two chairs were placed. One for her, the other for Jon. 

Same arrangement were made for Aegon and Ariane. From both sides, guards circled them. The prisoners stood up and only spoke when spoken to.

When Harry Strickland revealed the truth- Illyrio Mopatis was Aegon´s father; his mother was the only daughter of Daemon, the cousin Maelys killed in single combat, a woman called Serra. Her maid had the foresight to run away with the girl, who was kept safe by men loyal to her father, Strickland included.

When time came for her to be married, they sold her off to Illyrio Mopatis, reasoning they would need not only gold, but influence. 

As for Varys, his arms had a long reach, but he never thought about spying on his one and only friend. To him, Serra was a bed warmer and Aegon, the babe he sent to Pentos for safety- the true heir of the Iron Throne.

But Aegon Targaryen had died. He had been sick and died almost upon arrival, a very convenient turn of events to Illyrio, who had initially planned to raise the heir as a whipping boy to the imposter.

Illyrio took the tragedy as to mean his plan had been blessed by whatever Gods those Westerosi savages believed. From then on, he and Varys schemed to further the ambitions he had for his son, from stealing the stolen Targaryen eggs to selling Daenerys off to Khal Drogo.

By this point, a visibly distraught Ariane started crying. 

“ Quentyn died...now I will die...all because of dragons- false ones, real ones…and I lost Dorne...and all that awaits me are the Sorrows…”

”It does not need to end this way, Princess.” Before the meeting, Ser Barristan had told Daenerys that he personally thought the dornish were not particularly keen on receiving Arianne back at Sunspear.

“Trystane Martell might want his sister back, but Prince Trystane would rather avoid dealing with an inconvenient older sister whose claim supersedes his.”

And, perhaps, this was true. 

Actually, it might be true indeed- had Ser Manfrey Martell not made clear their first priority was to guarantee the safe return to Dorne of Princess Arianne ´s  _ retinue _ ?

Trystane had never said anything of the sort to Daenerys. Maybe it was as easy as Trystane trusting the clear danger of having the wife of a competing claimant to control the only one of the Seven Kingdoms that had actually not been conquered by dragons?

“While the treatment is most effective in children, Archmaester Ambrose confirms it can retard the spread of the disease and enhance a patient's life span- you might even be able to have one or two children, if you accept my offer and agree to the treatment.”

“Why would I want to have children with  _ him _ after all that? There is nothing for them to inherit...no claim, no sword, not even  _ my _ throne…”

“There is more to a marriage than the combination of hereditary claims, Princess, if you only wish to try it.” Daenerys noticed that Aegon did not even respond to his wife´s outburst…

_ Maybe he had not even listened to it- the man sure has a lot on his mind already..  _

Daenerys decided it was a good sign. They could work things out, if not through forgiveness, through ignorance.

Her sympathetic remark served to calm Arianne down. 

“Will my brother provide for my children, if I am to have some? How can I trust him- or you?”

“The second part of my offer will ensure your children will be provided for, Princess. You gave up Dorne when you married a claimant to the Iron Throne. The precedent was set with the marriage of Princess Myriah Martell, who had been her father´s heiress- Sunspear went to her younger brother.”

Feeling the need to firmly insert the still irresponsive Aegon in the conversation, Daenerys raised her voice one tone. “ Aegon. “ she began. “ My offer is the original offer: lands and a castle. House Blackfyre is recognized as a cadet branch of House Targaryen, directly sworn to the Red Keep. I will grant you ,and your descendants, in perpetuity, the Stokeworth lands.”

Probably another unforeseen consequence of Daenerys' earlier return were the deaths of Lollys Stokeworth and her son. Ser Bronn of the Blackwater  _ tried  _ to make the case he was to inherit the lands, but Daenerys had to laugh: only in a truly nonsensical timeline one would pay attention to the destiny of a tertiary character whose only talents were to kill people and make money out of it.

Without the benefit of plot armour, Bronn died as he had lived- asking for more gold than he was worth it and subsequently getting in a fight with a better man than himself.

Unluckily for him, instead of a pompous Valemen, Bronn pissed off Missandei´s brother, Marselan, who had no qualms on slicing the sellsword´s throat and being done with it.

Who would cry for Bronn?

_ No one. _

“ You may reward your men with knighty seats, as your lands are vast. After the dismemberment of the Greyjoy fleet, Lady Asha is in need of men- I am prepared to arrange for officers under your direct command to assume the seats at the Iron Islands, marrying the daughters of the late Lords…”

“And what about _ them _ ?” Aegon asked, turning his head to Harry Strickland and Jon Connington.

“The Essosi will be banished, never to return again. The ones claiming Westerosi blood will be offered a plea bargain: if they are unwilling to renounce their ties to the land, they will be sent to The Wall; if they give it up, they are free to return to Essos.  _ All _ \- except for Jon Connington..”

“ _ Of course.  _ “Aegon muttered as he looked at the man in chains with unhidden hatred.

If looks could kill, Conninton would have dropped dead.

“The sword?” Aegon finally asked, as the meeting was clearly running its course. “ Will it be the price for peace?”

“ _ Yes. _ “ There should be no more space for political assassinations from the side of House Targaryen, nor regrouping in Essos, licking its wounds just to prepare for another attack for the Blackfyres.

It would either end, or it would end.

“I will offer two days for you to consider your options---- _ ” and also to digest having your world being torn apart _ . 

“Although I would suggest you not to lose much time, since the treatment is more effective….”

“ _ No _ “ Aegon stated in a firm voice. “There is nothing to be considered- we accept the terms on one condition.”

“ Go on.”

“I shall not carry the sword, nor the name.”

Unsure exactly where Aegon was going with this, Daenerys was intrigued. 

She hoped Aegon was not asking to be recognized as her nephew in exchange for giving up his claim- this would only bring more trouble.

He was a distant cousin, many generations down the line.

Shireen would come first .

“Is your wish to create your own House, choose your own name?” Daenerys supplied. 

“What I wish is not relevant. You're the Queen who brought dragons back out of stone. Even if I believe that I am who I was told I am, after King's Landing and the plague, I am unfit to rule. “

Aegon paused, his head searching for the right words. 

“ I might not be a Targaryen. “ he said with undeniable sadness, “ but I am not a Blackfyre.”

***

As the greatest authority on medicine in Westeros, Archmaester Ambrose had initially doubted the simple adherence to a more through personal hygiene routine would be as impactful in the containing of the spread as Daenerys hoped, but once they entered Storm's End and started dealing with the situation directly, and he observed that not even one of Her Grace´s soldiers had fallen ill, he was quick to change his mind and adapt.

Miasms seemed not to exist after all.

Ambrose took to use the filtered mask of the Unsullied, to be washed in boiling water at the end of every day. His gloves, however, had to be burned- he was in too close contact with the sick, far too often, for just a wash to suffice.

Considering the circumstances, Maester Jurne had done a remarkable job in Storm´s End. Ser Gilbert Farring too had acted decisively once the tragedy was evident. Merchants, nobles and soldiers had already left Strom´s End, carrying the plague with them, but three of the four kitchens were closed, members of the household with fever moved to the bottom apartments, and Aegon ´s retinue confined to the main Tower.

This actions saved many lives inside those walls.

After ten days of hard work, Storm's End was declared cleared. Aegon, his wife and their men left to Castle Stokeworth, carrying enough supplies and a letter to Maester Frenken, with instructions for their treatment to continue at Castle Stokeworth. The young man had lost the war, given up his Throne and been pardoned by the Queen, whom he recognized as the Head of House Targaryen.

Of his own claims, Aegon spoke no more. Who his father was, what was his mother´s name ...all these stories were gone, never to be mentioned again. Some even started suggesting the boy was merely a bastard of the late Prince, others going as far as saying that he was lysine slave the Golden Company had bought and trained in the ways of royalty to complete their aspirations of reclaiming Westeros.

They failed. The Golden Company had been disbanded- without a Blackfyre claimant, they were nothing but a successful sellsword company. The bulk of the survivors returned to Essos, where they would continue to live as they had been living until this ill fated adventure happened; a considerable number were taken in by Lady Asha Greyjoy as the mad Greyjoy King had only left back home boys too young to fight

Since most of his fleet was returned to the watery halls of the Drowned God, The Iron Islands needed the men as much as they needed the Iron Islands, and Asha Greyjoy would have her hands full.

But all this belonged in the past, and Archmaester Ambrose had a feast to attend, the celebration of Lady Shireen of House Baratheon.

***

“Does it have to be _ that _ tight?” 

Irri mumbled a “yes” and continued to braid Shireen´s hair. Daenerys looked from her chair, amused at the girl.

When informed that the liberation of Storm's End had been technically her first victory, Shireen grabbed the opportunity to show her appreciation for the Dothraki hordes that fought against the invading Aegon´s troops and insisted her hair to be braided on the day of her investiture as Lady Paramount.

“Well, you can use it the way you are more comfortable with once you return to the Great Hall.” 

Since Shireen was dead serious about honouring the Dothraki, she would be joining the khalasar outside and eat roasted horsemeat under the stars before saying her thanks and goodbyes- Daenerys did not want the girl to witness how the horse lords _ truly  _ celebrated their victories…

This thought reminded Daenerys of an important conversation to be had- one that she was dreading it.

“ Shireen, not only you are about to take your first steps as a Lady of a Great House, but also, the first steps into adulthood. Soon there will be lordlings and knights asking for your hand…”

Shireen blushed. “Ser Davos and Lady Maria already mentioned it…”

“I want you to know” Daenerys continued. “ that there is no pressure for you to choose right away. You are still young and there is much that will change in your life as your body reaches maturity…”

Daenerys considered the only positive side of arranged marriages the milder impact it should have on a girl´s self esteem. One´s desirability as a partner had nothing to do with looks. Shireen would not feel any self conscious about her scars, or be intimidated by competing against unmarred girls- she was the Lady of her own castle, and this gave her power.

What Daenerys did not expect was that, due to her early age, serious disposition and upbringing, Shireen´s whole approach to the subject was much more pragmatic than she would have expected.

“I am afraid I already made my choice, cousin.”

After Aegon signed the agreement and was sent away, Daenerys had a series of meetings with Ser Davos to discuss the future of the Stormlands. They had a good rapport- Seaworth wrote to his wife and sons from Dragonstone, fogging them to either stay hidden at Cape Wrath or return to their Keep.

They were reunited after Aegon´s departure, and Shireen was happy to have them by her side.

But there were others members of her extended family that would need Shireen. As Head of her House, the responsibility to care for the bastards her uncle left fell squarely on her shoulders, as tradition dictated.

Mya Stone had a life of her own at the Vale, but Daenerys supposed she should also be contacted. They would definitely be sending troops with orders to retrieve Gendry from the Riverlands, since the young man was a knight and could join her household. 

Then, there was Edric: if he was found and returned safely, Shireen would have him as her consort and hoped Daenerys could bless the union.

“His mother is a noblewoman, and he is male, so it is best we combine our claims as to avoid future problems. He is also a friend, one of the only ones I had so far, and never much cared for my scars….”

“Marrying a friend is not a bad thing.” noted Missandei with a genuine smile, giving Daenerys a cue to introduce yet another subject.

“ This is also true to you, Missandei.”

Daenerys had agreed on the details of her will. Jon had accepted Shireen to be the heir apparent of the Seven Kingdoms- enough of her father´s men had given their life to liberate Winterfell so he reasoned there should be no reason for The North to secede in this case- but Daenerys position in Essos - and Viserion- would go to Missandei in case of her demise.

“You are a dragonrider and my adoptive sister- many will ask for your hand, whether in Essos, Westeros or Naath. You must be prepared to make a choice, sooner or later.”

Noting Missandei discomfort, Jhiqui, who had grown quite fond of the small scribe, turned the conversation to Daenerys.

“Khaleesi will wed the big Khal in the North- a good match.”

And it would be soon, Daenerys thought with herself- her second moonblood had come and gone.

and Jon was impatient.

_ “I need to return home...I cannot leave Sansa in charge for much long.” _

_ Daenerys agreed it was not a good idea. She did not know this Sansa any more than she had known this Jon when he met him, but realistically speaking, the longer Jon stayed away, the more opportunity someone like Littlefinger would have to screw things over. _

_ “Although the Red Keep is still under Cersei´s influence, and the Westerlands has yet to capitulate, we have accomplished what we set out to accomplish in this timeframe. “  _

_ Daenerys did not fear any rebellion, breaking of faith with her House or any great moves from Cersei. The alliances she forged were strong and healthy: The Prince of Dorne could sleep well, knowing her sister was alive, but posed no danger to him; Lady Olenna had her hands full with the reconstruction of Oldtown and training her granddaughter to rule Highgarden as the wife of the Tyrell heir; Lord Tully owed her troops his life and Seat and Shireen Baratheon had been recognized as the ruler of the Stormlands. _

_ I just need to sort something out before we can get married- a couple of days, not more. The day after Shireen´s investiture should be a good time. A small ceremony, discreet, but with enough great lords in attendance to witness its legitimacy.” _

_ Jon accepted the date. “ Marwyn mentioned he has found an answer to our problem- a certain way we can conceive a child. “ _

_ “ I will speak with him and see what he has in mind.” knowing Marwyn, it would be some sort of blood magic ritual mixed with science for good measure. _

_ Daenerys could claim it would be distasteful, but she was beyond that. She lived in Westeros, where Magic existed- but she still had her limits, and hoped they would not be crossed. _

_ “There will be no need to send ravens and inform other Lords of our union. Ser Gareth will inform Lord Hightower and Lady Olenna, as Ser Manfrey will the Prince of Dorne “ Once again, since she could not tell what Bran Stark true allegiances were, Daenerys distrusted ravens and kept herself very far from weirwood trees.  _

_ " I will have the Septon write a transcript of the ceremony and will entrust Ser Garth with my own letter to the High Septon at the Starry Sept.” _

_ As she did not expect the Starks to trust her from the get go, it was only fair that Daenerys exchanged the same courtesy to them. _

_ “ Once we arrive at Winterfell, we tell your sister we are betrothed and we would like to have a weirwood ceremony as soon as the other Lords are gathered again. Do you think a whole moonturn will be enough to organize the defenses of the castle and agree on a joint plan with the Night's Watch?” _

_ This did not sit well with Jon. “ Winter is the real enemy…” _

_ “--- and as soon as they cross the Wall, if they do, I can fly at your earliest convenience, Jon. It will do us no good if I stay in the North indefinitely. A large number of soldiers will do no good in a fight with such enemy- and I had a vision...a vision about the Trident…” _

_ “ We must make sure they do not cross…”  _

_ “We will agree on a strategy. I already provided the dragonglass, and will provide even more, as long as we are clear on how to fight them. “ A month seemed a reasonable period to meet the northern Lords, Free Folk and Black Brothers, hear their ideas and jointly come to an agreement.  _

_ “ I will return south and deal with Cersei myself. We have dragons, remember? I will be a day away from you and Winterfell.” _

_ This made Jon more open to the idea. Daenerys had to remind him she could fly and cover in hours distances that would take weeks on a horseback. _

_ “ Besides, if I am with a child...I would not want to be cold…” _

_ *** _

Afraid as she was to ask because she already knew the answer, Daenerys went to meet Marwyn in the small study the castellan had assigned for him.

“  _ Only death can pay for life. “ _

Daenerys was livid. 

“ There must be _ another _ way- we cannot expect all our problems to be solved by blood magic!"

She shuddered. What would happen when the White Walkers came? Would another sacrifice be needed to fend them off?

Would Jon indeed stick her with the bloody pointy end?

_ Ugh. _

“I am afraid not, Your Grace. There are no guarantees you would fall pregnant the natural way, but also nothing saying you would not. You could either take your chances while your consort´s flesh is still warm , or use the opportunity you yourself created.”

_ What does he mean by that?  _ She had banished most of the Golden Company, and she could not touch on the ones she would be sending to the Wall.

_ Unless…”  _ You mean Jon Connington?”

Marwyn threw his hands in the air : “He is about to die anyways. “ With a shrug, he added: ” Might as well die for something good, atoning for his many sins...”

Images of the green fire consuming King's Landing came to Daenerys mind. It had been truly, unbelievably horrible- something Daenerys would never want to witness again.

Connington was obviously a very ill man, physically, mentally and spiritually. He wanted to make good on the memory of his good friend and ended up raising an imposter, commanding an invasion on his own land and burning half a city down, all possibly due to the fact Westerosi had no idea that PTSD existed, let alone how to treat it.

And it was not like Daenerys could have prevented this tragedy to happen or help Jon Connington recover. She had been an educated person with many interests in her time, but she was no psychiatrist. 

Daenerys did not want to, but she had to agree with Marwyn's blunt assessment. Between Shireen´s surprisingly pragmatic view on marriages and the Archmaester rather cavalier attitude towards matters of morality, this had been quite a day.

Daenerys just wanted to crawl back to bed and pretend she had not left. 

But this choice would not be hers to make :

“If we are really sacrificing a man for the gift of new life, it should be at least a willing sacrifice.”

***

“Do you understand what is being asked of you? Do you  _ really _ understand?”

Jon Connington did. He had nothing. He had lost each and every person he loved in the last years and not even the few days he spent at Griffin's roost served to bring him peace or joy, as it reminded him of a time that would never come back, no matter how hard he tried.

Even if the boy was Rhaeagr´s son, he was not Rhaegar and would never go on to do the things Rhaegar had dreamed about.

But Daenerys? Now that he had seen her, that he had seen the dragons- _ he _ r dragons- Jon believed this would be something that Rhaegar would be willing to do for the sake of all that was worth fighting for.

“I know this will not bring back the lives I have taken so unnecessarily, but it is my hope that my death settles at least some of my debts.”

Since his life had lost all its meaning, Jon Connington tried to see some in his impending death. It would be cruel to deny the man even this slice of solace, but Daenerys still felt like a vulture for benefiting from his obvious suffering.

“As a sign of my gratitude, would you like to choose the name of the child that is to be conceived?”

“Rhaegar, if it is a boy…” Connington answered with a trembling voice. “ Visenya if it is a girl.”

***

Daenerys had promised there would be no lies told in her relationship to Jon. She would not go as far as to tell him the truth of her second life and dimension travels- would anyone other than Aurane truly believe her if she shared her tale?- but keeping something as big and nefarious as contemplating human sacrifice was not something she was willing to do.

For the third time that same day, Daenerys had to pick up her chin on the floor:

“ If they are both in agreement, as long as they do not ask anything from me, they are free to do as they please.”

_ Is that so? Is Jon treating this like it was a matter of “ his body, his choice”? _

“Are you sure is that everything you have to say on the matter?”

“I don't know what you want from me, Daenerys.” From his tone of voice, Daenerys had the impression Jon was not only speaking about this isolated incident.

“I want you to be my partner, my friend, to rule alongside me and to start a family…” Not for the first time, Aurane being far from her eyes was a blessing in disguise. As awkward as things were getting now, it would only be worse if, after having this kind of discussion with the man she was about to marry, she would bump heads with the man she just happened to be in love with.

“I think you will be a good father...” she trailed, uncertain on what more to say.

The past weeks had shown Daenerys that Jon could indeed become a good ruler. He listened to his men, was getting better at hiding his temper, and was far more interested in politics and well versed in it than she had anticipated.

The last days had also proved Daenerys Jon could be a friend. They spoke everyday, not only about the war or white walkers, but about life. They wanted the same things and had so much in common that it was difficult to discard the possibility that fate had anything to do with their coming together.

But it would not be easy, this much she knew.

***

“What about a good husband?” Jon asked an obviously anxious Daenerys. “ Will I be a good husband to you? Will you be a good wife to me?”

This should not bother Jon, but it did. They were very much alike, but very different too, and yet they longed for the same things.

Daenerys never said that openly, nor did Jon want to admit it to himself, but having a home, a family, someone to love, these were the things they desired above all else.

And the problem was, she was in love with a man that could very well be Jon´s complete opposite and the wolf´s blood in him did not like sharing one bit.

Jon could not help it. Although he knew this was a political marriage and, so far, they had been incredibly harmonious in their political dealings, the personal aspects of it were very complicated, between the history between their families, their previous relationships and the impeding threat of annihilation, there was much to be overcame. 

Barely experienced in the trials of marriages as he was, Jon could not avoid but to remember his father and his wife. It had been the only marriage he had observed and he knew they had grown to love each other as the years went, acting not as two different individuals, but as an unit.

For Jon, it became increasingly obvious that Daenerys had experienced that sort of bliss not only once, but possibly twice, and this did not sit too well.

Was he being selfish for wanting to experience love too?

Ygritte and Val...Jon respected them more than loved them. 

This time, it was different. She would be his lawful wife. For a bastard like Jon, such things mattered. 

He wanted what his father had- that was all.

“You can be a good husband to me, yes ,and I can be a good wife to you, Jon. I was not lying when I told you I want this work. It will be hard. It might take time, but we can have a chance if only we try our best and do not allow anything to come between us…”

She was right. This thing- this marriage of theirs- would be a demanding one, not only due to their natures, but also because they would be Queen and King.

Since he was only adding to their seemingly infinite list of problems instead of helping solving them, Jon decided to let it rest, and reply to her question:

“You forget, Daenerys, that I have seen enough of Magic to know it is not really my choice. Sorcerers, gods worshippers, skinchangers- they will do what they have to do, regardless of other´s opinion. Melisandre always found a way to convince Stannis. This Marwyn might not be that different. As you said, he himself admitted we might be able to conceive without the need of any sacrifice, and yet, he is pushing for a sacrifice to be celebrated...and Jon Connington, who will die by fire anyway, is willing to go forward with this...I say we let them, as long as nothing is demanded from us.”

***

The ceremony was a small one, and in keeping with Daenerys wish for discretion, there was no feasting, just a supper.

Greyworm paid no mind, but Rakharo and Joqo thought it only went to show you how savages were these Westerosi, marrying inside a small building with seven statues and not even spilling some blood to bless the union...

But Daenerys insisted a cake was baked and decorated with enough icing as to look smooth, two figures that barely resembled human beings were placed at the top of the cake, with her explaining a clearly confused Jon they were supposed to represent them- the bride and groom.

“Essos customs I will never understand…” Jon muttered before they were toasted for the first time.

By the time Daenerys was approached by Marwyn, who handed her a small chalice- not before dipping a finger inside and licking it, proving it was not poison- she was already in her cups.

After an hour, Jon ended the festivities by wishing the attendees well and escorting Daenerys to their matrimonial bed.

***

His slightly cold fingers covered her hands and guided her through the corridors. 

Jon was there, firmly pressing her hands, shielding her from the looks. Long corridors had eyes everywhere- guards, maids, knights- and they all knew what was about to happen.

Even for a social person like her, this was a nerve wracking experience- a reversed walk of shame, if you will.

Then, he greeted the couple of guards by the door, and they entered a room. Daenerys would be hard pressed to describe it, she only knew it was not hers.

“I thought you would not mind if we slept in my chambers, the view from the window is spectacular.”

A view? Once he mentioned, Daenerys went to see it for herself.

Maybe it was the wine speaking, but Daenerys had to agree. Her chambers were bigger, this much she could tell, but the windows there were rather small. This room, however, had but one window, but it was the largest she had seen since they left Volantis.

“You know, Jon....you never even tried to kiss me....”

Why was she saying this? Daenerys ignorance of westetorsi customs was hard to disguise when she was tipsy- she had no idea if betrothed people were even allowed to kiss before the wedding day!

“An opportunity never presented itself...we were never alone.”

To her shock, before she even realized, it happened.

Jon had kissed her.

***

Her clothes, as opulent and extravagant as they looked, were easy to be discarded.

This, or maybe Jon was in such a hurry to have her that he was less than gentle with the dress.

The undeniable need she felt in his kiss did not make Daenerys feel threatened at all. His touch, while not as warm as hers, felt protective, caring, wholesome.

This deeply sensorial experience of tentative foreplay kept her mind from questioning it too much, accepting and engaging in the initial give and take without much thought or restriction.

Until Jon stopped.

“What is the matter?” Daenerys asked.

“I have never seen... _ this _ ”

Daenerys looked down and saw Jon´s fingers caressing her lace bra, an expression of intense focus on his face.

“ You mean...my und-- _ -smallclothes _ ?”

“It looks...very  _ small _ .”

Daenerys giggled. She usually opted for one of those “ sport bras” but since this was her wedding night, she had new, sexier lingerie commissioned.

“Do you like it?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Jon answered between kisses. “ But I have no idea how to---”

It was rare to meet a man able to take off a woman´s bra in less than two tries, so Daenerys did not think too much of Jon´s confusion.

Not losing any time and before he even finished his sentence, Daenerys unclasped the bra, bearing her breasts for the first time that long day.

Jon immediately attacked the exposed part of Daenerys anatomy, kneading her mounds, sucking her nipples, licking the vale between her teats, feasting on her chest like he had been waiting for this far too long…

Daenerys moaned loudly, rubbing herself on his erection. The night was colder than usual, but the brazzers were lit and the bed, comfortable.

She would not be going anywhere.

***

When Jon went south to give Daenerys the Lord's kiss, he had yet another surprise- one he did not dare to comment, at least ,not out loud.

Jon took his time, sniffing, smelling, tasting, kissing her hairless cunt. Obviously, this was not some natural physical trait since there was hair on her mound- she had removed it through means Jon could not imagine, nor did he care to learn as long as she continued with the practice, because the results were extremely alluring.

Once fully inside, it did not take long for Jon to reach completion, which was definitely disconcerting to him, since it had never happened so fast before.

She did not look particularly disappointed with his performance, but was happy to welcome his attentions twice more that night, to considerably better results.

Without another word, after Jon was finally satisfied and Daenerys, visibly exhausted, they fell asleep.

***

Jon dreamt that night, a dream he had had many times before, right after he arrived at Dragonstone.

Cold air on his face, Jon could barely see beyond the clouds. There was no moon, nor sun- the sky was all blue, but a darker shade, and the sea mirrored the exact same colour, making it look as if there was no distinction between what lied beneath and above his head.

And Jon felt warm, alive and happy- the happiest he had ever been.

But it was not a dream. It was real.

He was flying.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Jon travel to Winterfell- and the surprises keep on coming.

“I think it is not a good idea for us to arrive on our dragons.” 

Jon could barely disguise his disappointment at these words- and Daenerys could not blame him.

Now that he had bonded with Rhaegal, why would Jon prefer a boat over his dragon?

After that first flight, Jon was always eager for more.

Flying became one of the few things Jon showed great enthusiasm for.

He was extremely talented too, picking up the manoeuvres Daenerys and Missandei took great pains to recreate from the books they read at Volantis in a matter of days, much to their surprise and amazement.

Natural aptitude aside, Jon was a serious, meticulous student, unafraid and bold. Daenerys could only be thankful by how smoothly things were going on this end, as it meant she could trust Jon to spend time North, dealing with his family while being a a day away, freeing her to return south.

On the top of all of that, Jon and Daenerys were the last Targaryens and the benefits of the blood bond could not be overstated. Their house, although technically a minor one, was the envy of the other dragonlords, who went to great lengths in order to assert their domain over their dragons, either by taming them, like Missandei did, or by making use of spells and fire magic, like Victarion attempted to.

While both methods could be successful, nothing would top the Targayens blood magic, and the strength of their bonds

Jon began by gently reminding Daenerys it had been  _ he _ r idea to fly- not his. “ Your troops in the Riverlands, you said, would arrive at Winterfell before you were to leave south. There would be plenty of time for meetings, visits and scouting missions, you said- why change now?”

_ Yes, _ Daenerys thought,  _ I said all that, but this was before. _

“It was a first idea, yes, and it had its merits.” Any leader, Daenerys said, should be able to reformulate plans after further reflection before committing. “It would be definitely a statement, one nobody would misunderstand, and precisely because of that, we should not fly.” 

Before they married, Daenerys spent days, flying around Westeros, visiting Keeps and her troops. “ My intention is to use the dragons not only as weapons, but as diplomatic tools. The advantage of speedy travelling is something I will use at all times.” 

Jon agreed. At Dragonstone, he started to organize the transportation of the Night's Watch new recruits and dragonglass, glad he would not be joining the unpleasant prisoners in the confinements of a boat, only for his wife to decide otherwise. 

Yes, Daenerys understood the frustration. She had worked to convince Jon of one thing, just to do the other. But Winterfell , or rather, the first days of their stay at Winterfell, offered Daenerys a chance to fully assess the Starks and how to deal with them, at no extra costs other than foregoing a triumphant arrival. 

By doing  _ exactly _ what the other Daenerys had done in that other version of the story, she would get her answers.

So far, changing things, either by accident or design, has resulted in changed outcomes. Would this also play in reverse?

Would keeping things the same led to unchanged results?

The North had been cut out from the south- they knew next to nothing of what had happened in the last weeks. Jon had been sparse in his writing; all they knew was that Daenerys was Queen, The North joined her cause and that they would be arriving at Winterfell shortly.

When news came that Brandon and Arya were at Winterfell, Daenerys decided the circumstances being more or less the same from their point of view, it was worth trying this experiment. There was nothing to lose, and much to gain.

Would Sansa still be a pain in the ass from the start? Would Brandon behave like a creepy computer boy in barely human form? Would Arya dumbly repeat the mantra “ she is not one of us” with a smug face and even smuggier attitude?

_ Would they? _

“If we come atop our dragons” Daenerys said as she took a sip from her ginger tea while Jon watched her closely “ all they will see is Aegon the Conqueror with teats and a man who went south as a Stark and came back as a Targaryen.”

It was enough to make Jon cringe. “ Quite an image you convey...I see how we would not be sending the friendliest of messages.”

“Although first meetings can be stressful, there is no reason for this one to be so. I am going to extreme lengths to show I come as a friend and ally, not as an intruder. Do you think I will be well received?”

This question was such a non issue for Jon that he was confused by it. “ I came south to find an ally to our fight and I will return home with an ally, as promised- why would they  _ not  _ receive you well? Do you think so little of northerners?”

_ Well, actually I do.  _ “ The ones I met so far have been very good to me, but I have learned enough not to assume anything. There is, however, a very plain way to see if The North is receiving me with open arms: remember what you told me about Robert´s arrival at Winterfell?”

Daenerys knew some already: However, seeing the gaps between this reality and that other, she sought to fill them in with first hand knowledge, having many conversations with Jon regarding his past family life, learning as much as possible.

“Yes, I do.”

“You told them they would be receiving a Queen-  _ their _ Queen- I expect the same treatment Robert received when he was their King; nothing more, nothing less.”

***

Daenerys' sleep that night was troubled, not by her own fears penetrating her subconscious, but by the involuntary movements of Jon´s body.

“You were having a dragon dream. “ She told him in a reassuring tone, her hand resting on his back as his breathing went back to normal. “Not a vision of a battle, just you strengthening his bond with Rhaegal.”

“ _ Dragon dream _ ?” Jon asked incredulously. “ I dreamt like this before...more than once actually. It started when I arrived here. Missandei said she never experienced this, but that you did.”

“Yes, I did, like all Targaryens who went on to become dragonriders. It is a powerful instinct in us and I do believe that this drove some of our own mad when the dragons went extinct- the need to fly was there, but not the means.”

Jon looked at her with eyes as big as saucers. “ Only Targaryens are known to have such dreams?”

_ Shit. _

She said too much without realizing. Daenerys could have slapped herself. She had been incredibly airy lately to the point of being forgetful. 

This was bad. Now Jon had questions. She said it herself- dragondreams are only reserved for those with Targaryen blood, the only ones able to develop a bond. 

Jon had caught it and by the looks of it, he wanted answers- and the answer Daenerys could give him was the true.

But it would hurt, to learn this way. Worse: it could change their relationship. If Jon was anything like the other, Daenerys could say goodbye to a healthy sexual life and probably, if she was not pregnant already, the possibility of ever being with child.

What to do? Daenerys could either claim her statement was merely a conjecture based on her readings, not confirmed facts...or she could move forward and, while not telling in so many words the truth, lead Jon to the conclusion- and pray for the best.

“Your Lord father never once told you of your mother.” She took a deep, loaded breath. “ Is there anyone alive who went south with Lord Stark and returned with him to the North?”

“Yes.” Jon replied quietly. “ Lord Reed. He wanted to tell me something, but we were interrupted and there was no time…”

This sounded like a lost opportunity, something that would have changed things considerably. Had Jon arrived at Dragonstone knowing he was Rhaegar's son, things would have definitely not gone this way. 

“ When we return, you should ask Lord Reed about it, if he is still at Winterfell, or maybe fly over to The Neck and find him. This is important. You are owed an explanation, Jon.”

_ Well, that is rich coming from me, non?  _ To be fair, Daenerys kept the secret from Jon partially because it was not hers to tell, but mostly for fear of his dagger- how could she be sure that Political!Jon was not a thing in this reality?

She did not want to take any risks.

“What you have with Rhaegal is a blood bond. Missandei has tamed Viserion, who accepted her as a friend, not as a bonded rider. Only those of my House are known to develop blood bonds, and there must be enough of Targaryen blood in you for that. Both Quentyn and Aurane have Targaryens ancestors, but centuries back...they never had any sort of dragon dreams, even though they were near dragons. “

_ And Aurane was sleeping with one.  _

“You mean to tell me my mother...that she is possibly someone closely related to your family? A bastard of Aerys perhaps?”

“ _ That _ . “ Daenerys conceded with a half smile. “ Or your father is not Lord Stark.”

As Jon remained silent, Daenerys continued. “ Nobody knows of your mother, but they all know of Lyanna Stark, who was kidnapped, or ran away with my brother. Lord Stark went south, to Dorne, in order to rescue her, but when he came back, she was dead and you were in his arms…” 

For better or for worse, it was done. 

“I am glad nobody thought of the possibility the babe was Lyanna´s and Rhaegar´s. “ Daenerys continued, putting to words the conclusion Jon had clearly reached. “ for it would have meant another small head being crushed against the wall...”

Still, Jon remained silent.

Daenerys could see the pain. 

She wanted to ask what he was feeling, to comfort him even--- but at the same time did not want to intrude.

Maybe he needed time. To think. To grief.

Time heal wounds, as they say

But someone else had another idea.

“  _ RrrrrRrrrrrrrrrrrrghh! _ ”

They looked at the balcony, where they could see Rhaegal clapping his wings.

“ _ Go _ . “ Daenerys said to Jon. “ Go---fly away...think…”

And he went.

  
  


***

It took Jon a full day to return- and by that time, Daenerys' mind was still spinning.

When he finally came back and she was told he was on his way to her chambers, Daenerys was on the verge of hysteria. 

“ Jhiqui...please, bring me the breastplate…”  _ or maybe mail under my shirt _ ... _ he would not be able to see it. _ “ No...bring me the chainmail instead….”

“Khaleesi, are you feeling unwell?” Irri asked as she went around searching for the piece of garment she had been asked. Normally, it was Jhiqui who took care of the Queen's clothes, but today she had gone to the village with the some Dotharki women, leaving Irri a bit lost.

“ _ Yes...no. _ ..yes?” Was she well? Daenerys actually was  _ very  _ scared. 

She stood no chance. Daenerys continued to learn how to fight, but it was an ongoing process and she was nowhere near as good as she needed to be if she was to fight Jon.

“I am not sure, Irri.” Daenerys finally answered, throwing her hands in the air. “ maybe I am overreacting…. Irri, br--- AAARgh!”

Daenerys did not want to scream but screamed she did when she saw Jon´s figure emerging from the doorframe, all dressed in black leather and looking at her with piercing eyes.

“Irri, please leave us.” he said succinctly before walking towards Daenerys, who was stepping backwards as her husband came closer. 

“ You seem frightened.” Jon motioned his arms, covered her hands with his “ and cold…”

_ I am...I am scared of political! Jon and his pointy end.  _

“ I am sorry...I was worried--.worried about you, of course, not scared...” 

_ I don't want to die...I don't want to die. _

She was alone with him- and he was so close to her. She could not breath.

_ Be gentle...be nice...do not wake the dragon. _ “ I don't want to see you upset...not about this...if it is true…”

Jon took her face on his hands and held her for a beat. “ I am not upset. Not anymore---and not with you.” 

He kissed her on the lips. “ I know it is true.” 

But she did not respond- not like she always did. 

Jon felt a tear dropping from her eyes and saw as she took another step back, breaking up his kiss. 

“Does it change anything for you? That we are related? Is that it? You said these relationships were common...”

“I need to sit down.”

***

“Should I get Irri??” Jon helped Daenerys to a chair, holding her hand tight. Her face had gone completely white, as if all the blood had been drained from her at once.

“No...just...give me some water, please.”

The cold liquid and a couple of deep breaths calmed Daenerys down considerably. 

Feeling slightly better brought her no comfort: from the chair, Daenerys could see her reflection on the small mirror in her vanity- and she looked like death..

“I apologise for ... _ this _ .” she said as she pointed at her distressed, pale face.

If her eyes had been blue instead of violet, Jon could have easily mistaken Daenerys for a female white walker.

“ ...I am very sorry. I just felt a sudden draining of my strength. Don't misunderstand me… there is nothing wrong, if it is true...and nothing should change between us, unless you want to…”

“ _ No _ \---I don't want to change anything...”

“Good.”  _ Good...very good. Angst ridden Jon must be avoided at all costs.  _

“...but I know it is true...what you said. It all makes perfect sense. It just...it never occurred to  _ me _ .”

“Well, it apparently never occurred to  _ anyone  _ else.” This boggled her mind a bit. The absolute power of plot convenience. In a world supposedly inhabited by an astute men and with Lord Varys as a spymaster, nobody ever considering Lord Stark´s story highly improbable was surprising.

Anyway, this was her rational side speaking- and Westeros was anything but a place that could be explained by rational means. Besides, Daenerys did not personally know these people to assume so much . She had only read about them and God knows, books do not tell the full story. Maybe they were idiots and Varys was just slightly above them in terms of intelligence. Or maybe, they were all so preocuppied in getting their fair share of Robert´s cake to even bother looking past a northerner lord´s supposed indiscretions.

They all had theirs, after all. 

Maybe it was very simple and she was the one complicating things. 

“Lord Stark, being known as an honorable man, people naturally took his word and made no questions…” Feeling a little bit better, Daenerys asked for Jon to sit by her side, and held his hand. “ How are you feeling?”

“I don´t know. It comes and goes. I feel thankful he went to such great lengths to protect me...but I also get angry. This lie...all the pain...Lady Stark would have been nicer if she knew…”

“I am very sorry, Jon” 

And she was. Daenerys' childhood had been, both materially and emotionally speaking, worse than Jon´s, but this was not a suffering competition.

No child deserved to be abused or neglected.

“They did not marry for love, but love came. He could have told her...it would have made my life easier- why not?”

_ “ _ Somebody once told me a secret is no longer a secret if you share it. The only way to really hide something, is to keep it to yourself.” and this painful secret was not only a family affair, but a matter of great political importance, one that could endanger the whole of House Stark.

“Mayhaps Lord Stark thought Lord Reed was enough of a risk. Or he was simply keeping a promise he made to his dying sister. Mayhaps Lord Stark trusted Lady Stark, but was afraid she was going to find someone _ she _ could trust...or he simply did not want to put his wife in such a difficult position…”

“ _ Difficult position? _ ” Jon asked. “ I know for a fact she would have preferred this truth to the lie---”

“On a personal level, yes, it would have been easier.” But again, in his despair, Jon failed to see the full picture. ”Imagine if, somehow, Robert Baratheon found out. This would be treason, Jon. By not telling his wife, Lord Stark was making sure she could be protected. He would be the one taking the full blame for the treachery, not her.”

This explanation partially convinced Jon. Rationally, he could understand- emotionally, though, he still struggled with the lie: 

“I keep thinking about that day you asked me how I would have reacted- I know you were speaking about Aegon---”

_ Not really _ . 

“--- but I was so sure a lie could be justified and forgiven, that I never thought about the price already paid.”

“We can do better, Jon.” Daenerys spoke with resolve. “ Our parents did what they could to protect us, and it was not nearly enough. My mother sent us away, but died. My brother---I do not believe he forced Lyanna, Jon, if that serves of any consolation, but he left Elia behind, and his children---”

“--- were killed by the Lannisters as a gift to Robert Baratheon, who did not care one way or another. “ Jon shook his head. “ Fath--- _ Lord Stark _ never said a word against Rhaegar...but he also considered Robert a dear friend...the way he received him at Winterfell...he even accepted being his Hand, gave his daughter's hand to a man who---”

_ \---who killed your father, yes.  _ “ War and Politics can force a man to change his morals, Jon, if only temporarily. I hate the man, but Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar in single combat, fair and square. Lyanna most probably wanted to be with Rhaegar, who was all the things Robert was not, but she made a bad choice, one that placed her family in a terrible position. Rhaegar did even worse---all I am trying to say is that Lord Stark might have felt as confused and hurt as you are feeling right now- and that Robert was a King you could not say no to.”

_ And yet, had Ned Stark said no to Robert Baratheon, the war of the Five Kings would not have happened. _

_ *** _

It was decided they would depart from Dragonstone with a Small Fleet, but not before Daenerys moved a few more pieces on the board.

“Lory Tyrion, you are to come with us to the North, there is an issue at Winterfell that begs your attention.”

“I assume you are speaking about Lady Sansa, Your Grace?” The little man inquired from his seat under the watchful eyes of both Jon and Ser Barristan. 

“Indeed. I spoke with the High Septon on my last visit and made some arrangements. The wedding can be dissolved, if both parties agree and , of course, some  _ conditions _ are met.”

Tyrion looked at Jon, who could not have looked less bothered by the direction this conversation was going.

Tyrion decided not to glance at his wife´s brother´s for fear his indifference would soon turn into something more sinister: 

“The wedding was not consummated, Your Grace, you have my word.” 

Sansa Stark was a good excuse, but an excuse neverthless. Daenerys needed Tyrion to be there, at Winterfell, in order to establish who to trust

A test, really- a test they would be failing If they behaved like their show counterparts. “ You are not to share any sensitive information while you are there, Lord Tyrion. We are on the first days of my reign and still discussing alliances and partnerships- do you understand?”

“I do, Your Grace- now, if I may ask you about your plans for the Red Keep---”

“Trust me, Lord Tyrion” Daenerys spoke with a curious glint in her eye. “ When we decide to move against your sister, you will not be left behind.”

***

Distracted as she was these days, Daenerys had lost count- but not Irri.. 

“ Khaleesi is late.”

Her whole body went numb. Could it be true? 

Mother- was she going to be a mother.

A mother to a human baby?

They were a day away from White Harbour, a very auspicious time. 

“ How many days, Irri? Are you sure?”

Irri was. “ Seven days, Khaleesi. You asked me to count- and I did. “

Daenerys nodded. Since her periods had returned, it was Irri who tracked the days, using one of the only methods the Dothraki had to either avoid or plan a pregnancy.

“You conceived on a full moon. You will be big!”

“Yickes!” Many thought pregnant women to be beautiful, saying that they glowed, become fuller, more feminine…

Unfortunately, Daenerys was not one of them.

She was getting very concerned. “ How big?” 

“Very big...round...fit for two horses!”

“Oh, man!- tell me you jest, Irri!”

Apparently, Irri was being dead serious. 

“Nothing to worry about.. The dark one will still want to mount you, Khaleesi! ”

_Really?_

_ “  _ How can you know all that from this babe being conceived on full moon? Are pregnant women so irresistible in this particular case?”

“No..” Irri shook her head vehemently. “Dothraki men would not want to touch a woman so round. The dark one likes breasts...yours has doubled the size...he stares when you are not watching!”

Daenerys would have laughed if she was not about to throw up: “Oh my God, irri, you are making me nauseous! “ 

“ The full moon babe is making you nauseous, not Irri!”

Aside from Irri´s remarks, and her fumbling stomach, this was good news. War notwithstanding, Daenerys had wanted to be a mother- not only to dragons- for a long time 

Moreover, this pregnancy would be a great reason to finally deal with Cersei and move forward, hopefully away from the sheer stupidity of the game of thrones.

“Irri, do not say a word about this to anyone, yes?”

The Dothraki woman scoffed. “ Who is here for me to talk? We are crossing the poisoned water yet again!”

This remark made Daenerys feel slightly guilty. Irri, Jhiqui and Missandei had been her constant companions for all these years, and this instance might very well be one of the first times they would be apart for a significant period. 

But Daenerys had to send Missandei over to Dorne and she had Jhiqui stay at Dragonstone to assist Jhogo´s dealings with the men stationed there, since horse lords tended to grow bored without the excitement of war.

This change would not alter her plans too much. Missandei being no one to Sansa, in that version of the story, the Lady of Winterfell had no paid Daenerys friend any mind.

She had no reason to believe this time would be any different.

“ Could you please call Jon? I want to tell him…”

***

“Can you say that again?”

Daenerys inhaled deeply. “ I am late. Days late. If two moonturns pass and there is no moonblood…”

Jon could do without caution _. _ “ Your taste changed...your breasts are fuller...my seed has taken root.”

Daenerys noticed how Jon´s face, usually so stoic, had taken another expression- one of pride.

Actually, Jon looked quite pleased with himself.

“ Could you be a bit less smug, Jon? It is too early to celebrate and you know, it is also bad luck.”

“Did not take you for superstitious Dany, but I understand the need for caution- I am not telling anyone about it, unless you say so.”

“ Thank you, Jon.” 

First time mothers were notoriously anxious. Daenerys was no exception.

Selfishly, perhaps, but understandably, Daenerys had no wish to join the so-called “dead ladies club “ by perishing in the birthing bed like so many women had, many of them the author had not even cared to name.

“I need to speak with Marwyn...see what I can do to be healthy...I dont want to…”

“Everything will be fine, Dany.” Jon tilted his head, and kissed her forehead. “I will protect you.”

***

“ I know those sails.” Aware of how much Daenerys enjoyed her time on the sea, when informed they were nearing White Harbour, Jon took his wife on the main deck to watch as they arrived on northern shores.

“It is the Pride of Tides- Aurane must be here.”

This made Jon visibly upset: “Why would he be here? Have you invited him?”

He did not mean to, but his tone was accusatory. 

“ _ No _ .” Daenerys replied, exasperated. “ He left months ago...pray tell Jon, how would I contact him? Through mind power?”

"I dont know.” Jon felt stupid for the outburst, embarassed even. “ I am sorry- forget I said anything.”

“If it bothers you, we need to talk- let's move downstairs.”

Jon did  _ not  _ want to talk. Daenerys , on the other hand,  _ always  _ wanted to talk. She believed speaking about things made them better. While Jon could see the benefits of this belief, and in fact, so far, he was mostly happy about their relationship, he honestly was of mind that the subject of her former paramour was one they should both avoid talking about.

There was a reason he resisted Daenerys questions regarding Val- nothing good would ever come from having such conversations.

“Jon.” Daenerys began as soon as they barred the door, her voice soothing. “Something must have happened to Aurane for him to come to White Harbour- and if he is here, I did not call him.”

“I already apologised for accusing you- we do not need to do this.”

“Fine.”

_ Thank Gods! _

This was progress, Jon told himself. Daenerys had finally understood not every problem could be solved with a “ heart to heart” conversation, an expression he had honestly never heard before in his life, and would be glad not to hear ever again.

“We speak when you are ready, Jon. We should always talk- about everything, you know?”

Yes, he knew. 

***

They were received at the Merman's court, where Lord Manderley, a large man with a friendly face, was most effusive in his welcome. It took much longer than both Jon and Daenerys would have preferred, if not due to them being tired from the trip and eager to rest before the feasting, but because they wanted an explanation for why Aurane Waters of all people had been waiting for them at White Harbour.

When their host finally considered the formalities observed, they wasted no time in sending an invite for Aurane to join them.

As fate would have it, Aurane had not come alone.

_ “Quaithe?” _

_ *** _

“She was by the docks of Qarth, waiting...” 

Daenerys had so far avoided looking directly at Aurane. She did not want to play with fire, for fear of getting burnt. An ironic stance, she was aware, when you are the Bride of Fire, but one that had been working for her and she did not see any reason to change.

Aside from a couple of mishaps, everything was going her way. Daenerys had not commanded Aurane to leave, but he did anyway, and. in the end, she was thankful for his decision, because it allowed her some peace when she most needed.

And, as they say, far from sight...

But here he was- and she did not want him to leave.

Better having him as a friend, than having him not at all.

Daenerys eyes fell onto the woman wearing the starlight mask: “ I have many questions.”

“And I shall answer them all, Daenerys Stormborn- but what I must say, I must say to you, and you alone.”

Daenerys looked at Jon and sighed. 

“ Would you excuse us? “

“Certainly.” Judging by her looks alone, the woman was a Magic user.If she was anywhere as powerful and dangerous as the Lady Melisandre had been, Jon would not turn down any opportunity not to be in her presence. “ We will be waiting for you.”

  
  


***

“You were bleeding. In desperation, I chanted forgotten words, powerful words. Magic is a powerful thing. The child you lost…”

“I did not mean for Rhaego to die---” Daenerys protested, the memory still ever present.

“No, the other one...the one from the sellsword...you lost it in the desert. Only death can pay for life.”

Daenerys lowered her eyes in shock. _ Daario _ . He was loyal, but bloodthirsty, a good lover, not the best of advisors. He died fighting for her, murdered by her enemies. She shed some tears and then, moved on. The knowledge she had gained changed her feelings for the sellsword, but now, learning she had miscarried his child in the desert….

“I--I did not know---”

“ I prayed for you to fly to safety...and for you to return. To move forward and to go back.”

_ The prophecy had been fulfilled  _ . As is often the case, not exactly as expected.

She had not even physically left the red waste, Qaith said.

“My soul?” Daenerys asked

“ _ No. _ “ Qaith answered. “ A shadow- a shadow of you.”

The more answers Daenerys got, the more questions she had. 

“ A shadow? How is that even possible?”

“The soul cannot be divided. The soul is infinite. Once it leaves a body, it expands to the universe, never to be the same again. We needed you to be the same, Daenerys. The same. More, not less. A shadow is a shifting shape. One moment here, another moment there. It is, but it is not- it disappears with the sun.”

_ Qaith is shadowbinder, not unlike Melisandre, but much more powerful.  _ Daenerys had no wish to know the intricacies of such powerful art, but she could only imagine.  _ Melisandre gave birth to a shadow...maybe my miscarriage… _

_ No, I do not want to know. _

“ For how long was I there? I cannot remember her name-- _ -my name _ …”

“ A blink of an eye, both here and there. You cannot remember because she was not you, Daenerys Stormborn. Your shadow reached her for a moment because you both share a bond of blood. A blink of an eye, and you saw her life through her eyes- and assumed you had lived as she had.”

“Wait- was she related to me by blood?” The reassuring thought- that her pregnancy had been successful, and that it had resulted in the furthering of her line- was substituted by one of anguish. 

_ No, this cannot be. _

__ “ Did she die upon my return?”

“Peace, Daenerys Stormborn.” The rays of sunlight made Qaith´s face mask shine brightly, her voice as soothing as of a mother to daughter. ” Blood only answers to blood, child---and yes, she lives still.”

“ _ She lives, _ ” Daenerys smiled.  _ This is good _ . Yes, it was good- but since her return, she could easily see that many of the good things she had been able to do came out of bad things- and this instantly sobered her up.

_ Blood... blood magic...sacrifice...shadows… _

_ No _ . “ I am not losing this child!”

“No, you sacrificed enough. Let him walk on your shoes. What you have lost, it will be restored to you. No more , no less.”

***

“I would prefer you to leave to Driftmark.”

Aurane had fooled himself into thinking putting an ocean apart would make any difference. It did not. He earned much gold and spent some with bed warmers. It took his attention away for a time, but even he knew old habits would not replace his newfound feelings.

He had no wish to disturb the peace he saw, but would also not pretend not to exist just to please the man she married. 

“ I am not under your service, my Lord...or should I say, Your Grace?”

“Aye, I wedded and bedded her and…” Jon wanted to tell Aurane. That Daenerys was carrying his son, that she was his- but he had promised her he would not. “ and our marriage must not be spoken about until we say so. We want to be the ones to tell my family.”

“I see.” Aurane was not surprised. Given what Daenerys had told him about ravens, she had good reason not to trust the birds with such important announcements. “ I will leave to Driftmark when I judge it is time. There is still much to be done and my wife is not due so soon.”

“Congratulations are in order then.” Jon had not wanted to know much about Aurane, so he had no idea he would be a father. 

In his eyes, the past belonged in the past. Jon did remember, however, that Daenerys had married Aurane off to his aunt- a strange coincidence. 

“ Your Lady wife...does she know?”

“Yes, she does. I keep no secrets, Your Grace _ ,  _ especially from those I respect and love.”

Jon silently nodded. He could not deny he had many things in common with Aurane, and found himself agreeing with the man more and more as their conversation progressed. 

Aurane said he would not be in Jon´s way. “ Love is love and nothing can change that. It caught me off guard, I must admit. I am a practical man, some would say self serving even. How could I be not? Bastards must find their way in the world- and mine led me to  _ her- “  _ he paused for a beat, before adding _.  _ “ It also brought me back to where it all started.”

Allyria, Aurane said, was a good woman. “ She promised to be a good wife to me and I am not as cold hearted as to make her suffer if it can be avoided. Allyria is older now, but she is still my lovely aunt, the sweet girl who taught me how to swim.”

Family- it was all that mattered.  _ The lone wolf dies but the pack survives _ , Lord Stark would say. And Daenerys was his family twice over, and soon, they would have a pack of their own.

Soon, Jon would cease to be a son and would become a father.

He would not jeopardize that with unwanted jealousies. 

“ I believe you, Lord Waters. If you give me no trouble, I have no reason to distrust you.”

***

Still reeling from the conversation with Qaith, Daenerys paid little mind to the distinctly peaceful atmosphere she found in the room where she had left Jon and Auarne. Later that night, as she absorbed in silence the remarkable visit, she decided that expecting otherwise- Jon and Aurane at odds- would have been astonishingly condescending.

She might be intelligent and astute, but she was far from the only one there capable of such.

“Lord Waters, you have my thanks. Qaith will be a formidable ally to have on our side- she is to come with us to Winterfell. ”

“ I have feared as much- Gods know we need all the help we can get.”

“Speaking of Gods...your brother, the one who has returned to Winterfell,- do you believe he will help us too?”

“Bran?” This seemingly caught Jon off guard.  _ Why would he not help if he is in position to? _ ”Bran is a good boy, Daenerys. He might not be able to walk, but---”

Daenerys interrupted, appalled.“Oh, no...I did not mean that way!” 

She should have been more careful with her words. Sometimes, she forgot. Jon had spoken to Lord Reed about Brandon, Jojen and Meera´s reasons for crossing The Wall yes, but he could not know how this experience had changed his brother.

And, to be honest, not even Daenerys could tell this with all certainty.

“ In my wanderings, I have read and learned about Magic. The Old Gods are spirits of old greenseers that joined with the weirwoods. The faces carved in the trees can actually see..in days past, people would offer the trees blood sacrifices. but they still, to this day, have the trees bear witnesses to important events…”

“...there is a chance your brother has become a greenseer.” Daenerys concluded solemnly. “ and if this is true, his magic could be... _ err _ ...detrimental to mine. Fire to Ice-the dragons don't like The North, Jon.”

This was as far as Daenerys allowed herself to go without confirmation- and without raising too many questions. Jon could be offended, and with reason. He only remembered Brandon as one of his favorite siblings. He would be protective of this memory, perhaps for a long time even.

And in appealing to his bond with Rhaegal, Jon could see the remarks had some merit. His dragon was in distress, flying the cold, dark skies of White Harbour, wishing to return south, where his magic was at its strongest.

“Here” Qaith handed Jon a small stone, a script carved in black ink.  _ A rune _ . “Have it always on you. This will keep both dragons protected.”

A protection against dragons in the sense the stone would act as a barrier for skinchanging possession.

“ We leave tomorrow at first light.”

***

Three weeks after White Harbour, they finally arrived at Winterfell.

Daenerys looked up, where the two dragons flew. 

She smiled. 

Jon helped her dismount. She made a point of trying to make small talk with the Starks- Sansa and Brandon- just for the sake of authenticity. Ser Jorah flanked her; Aurane and Qaith were far behind, trying their best to remain unnoticed.

Arya was not present. Brandon said next to nothing. Sansa behaved exactly like in the show.

Jon was livid.

“This is not how it is supposed to be done. The late Lady Stark was capable of many things, but she would never have refused to observe protocol. I will speak to Sansa “

Daenerys considered the matter solved. It was what it was, for better or worse. “ You would lose your time. She will not listen. She will treat you as if your judgment is compromised, probably insinuate you are thinking with your cock, and give you grief regarding northern independence.”

“You have been right about many things so far, but you might also be wrong. Regardless, she needs some reminding of her duty.”

Since Daenerys considered Sansa to be a lost cause, and after meeting him, she considered Brandon to be a mystery she had no wish to solve ( between Marwyn and Quaith,she had her hands full with wizards. If someone would deal with Brandon, it would be Jon ) the only move worth making in her opinion was to salvage Jon´s relationship with Arya. 

“Your other sister, the one you actually like- Arya- we should invite her to come see us after supper.”

“Tis a good idea. I will invite her over. Discreetly, I assume.”

Daenerys agreed. Ringing any bells or making waves while they were just testing the waters would not do them any favors..

“Maybe we should invite Brandon too...I could barely recognize him. I should have…” 

“Protected him?” Daenerys knew frustration and guilt when she saw and, while understandable, it was not well placed.

Jon could not be allowed to be swallowed in self pity, especially when he was not at fault.

“I know you must have many feelings right now, but remember: you were just their brother, some years older. You were not their father, not their mother. Whatever happened to them, it was not your fault. You joined the Watch precisely to not be a thorn on Lady Stark's side, and what did she do when you left? She left too. Lord Stark was in no position to deny his friend, I must concede, but a man's first duty is to his family. He refused to do what he should have done to protect his daughters and this mistake cost not only his life, but many more… whatever you might be feeling now, remember it is not your fault. “

“I know, I know, I know...” Jon stood up suddenly, running his fingers on his dark brown hair.

“ I will arrange a meeting with Arya, yes. How much are we telling her?”

“We tell her about our marriage, see how she reacts. If she is open about it, we gradually tell her more.” Daenerys had half a mind of mentioning Lord Baelish´s absence at their arrival, but if the Starks had already taken care of this particular problem, she was happy to ignore it. 

“I do hope we can find in Arya a natural ally, Jon. I know how much she means to you.”

***   
Daenerys spent a good couple of hours resting and internally lamenting the lack of in house plumbing- now that she was pregnant, her bladder seemingly had shrunk to half its usual size, and chamber pots were disgusting little things she would be glad never to see it again.

Uncomfortable as she was now, Daenerys knew things would only get worse. 

“I am hungry again.”

“I go find the kitchens…”

Nobody from Winterfell had so far taken Irri as to show her the workings of the Castle, which was evidently not how things were done... 

Clearly, they had been snubbed.

“You can ask Ser Jorah or Grey Worm, Irri.” Daenerys knew the master at arms to have approached the commanders of her troops.  _ Lady Sansa probably wants nothing to do with this side of being a princess _ . “ Do make sure to speak with them in Dothraki.”

A sudden drop in her pressure and an attack of nausea made Daenerys change her initial plan of sitting at the desk and writing some papers. So far, the only things that helped her with these symptoms was eating dried bread or taking a walk outdoors.

“Wait- I am coming with.”

Daenerys had yet to go to the great hall, which she supposed she would see by nightfall, when supper would be served. She snorted- so far, Lady Sansa was making a point at doing only the bare minimum. Lord Manderley had served simple, but plentiful food, and local musicians had come to play to their King and the visiting Queen. The Lord's nephew, who had accompanied Jon on his journey, had spoken about the need of discretion, but Manderley had more than approved of the wedding- he apologised profusely for not travelling to Winterfell, and once again, sent the knight in his stead.

The North was preparing for winter and for war. It was not that Daenerys expected to be received with parties everywhere. Far from it, but she was just observing the rules that had been set not by her, but by these families, thousands of years ago. Lord Manderley had not wasted any resources, had only used things he had at hand, serving mashed turnips with butter sauce instead of cream for example, and hiring the troupe of bards that would, undoubtedly, play at the whorehouse the next night- but he had made an effort.

As they walked towards the courtyard, they passed through a myriad of new faces, Daenerys guards encircling the two women. When she saw Ser Jorah, he was speaking with Lady Sansa.

She arched an eyebrow and decided against approaching them, continuing her way towards the courtyard, where she found Aurane.

It was never awkward between the two of them. They would sit by the fire and speak as friends while they waited for food to be served during their trek to Winterfell, naturally ignoring their romantic past, highlighting their friendship. Jon eased things considerably by not complaining about their common need of socializing with each other, aware those few moments were all they had. 

Jon´s place was clear to everyone. Daenerys rode alongside him the whole day and joined him at his tent at night time- a couple of hours having very public conversations with her former paramour would only become a problem if Jon made it into one.

“There is a kitchen on the main building, almost facing the training grounds...you can also get water there, by the well.”

Once Irri left, Aurane jokingly commented to Daenerys. “ I see Lady Sansa is nothing but consistent.”

“Oh, well, I think she considers herself very subtle and clever. Maybe it had not crossed her mind that I did not spend all these months idly sitting at Dragonstone. I find it odd she seems to think I know nothing of Westeros customs.”

Aurane shared the same opinion. “ They had received a King before and she was old enough to have watched her Lady Mother. The only excuse I can find that gives her some credit is the isolation they live here up North. Maybe she did assume you would not mind, seeing you came from Essos, and that the threat of yet another war and looming winter were good excuses as to not properly receive a Queen, in the name of austerity? Anyway, I saw the younger sister speaking with the stewards- the red haired one might not be as hands on...”

“To be completely honest, it does not bother me..” and it did not. Daenerys had all the support she needed, including Jon´s. 

“ It will bother me if she chooses to voice her objections in public. “

Would she? Aurane was inclined to think so. “ I overheard some of the Knights of the Vale. This has not passed unnoticed, but Lord Royce is very taken with her and she still believes he is her brother´s legal heir- she might think she can get away with it.”

“Honestly? I just want to go home and be done with here- you must feel the same…”

“Never thought I would be sailing through northern shores…” Aurane then gave her one of his smiles. “You see how far you take me...how far I go for my Queen.”

_ Oh, man.  _ “ You should behave yourself.” 

“ I am behaving- am I not?”

Daenerys knew better than continuing this banter. 

“ I must go...see you later, at the feast the Lady of the Keep is definitely not throwing for me.”

***

“I am sorry for the interruption, but I must speak with my sister, Sam.”

Jon´s old friend, red as a beet, promptly made his excuses and left.

Sansa did not move from her desk. 

“ Well…?”

“I came to tell you there is still time to receive Her Grace properly. She took no offense, but I did. You must make a better impression tonight- a plain supper will not do. I saw that Ghost brought in a wild boar. I already gave orders for the animal to be served, and I know there are bards among the Free Folk we could hire for the night. But honestly, thinking about such matters is not part of  _ my  _ duties- it is part of yours, though.”

“The North has no complaints when it comes to me…” Sansa then opened one of the parchments at her desk and read it aloud- Lord Glover would not be in attendance. 

“ Lord Glover is unable to return in time to see the Queen- his letter was worded accordingly. I have no problem with this, He sounded reasonable. And, since we are on the subject: where is Lord Reed?”

Sansa icy demeanor changed slightly, her face flushing a little. “ Lord Reed was eager to return to his Keep and his daughter followed. As for Lord Glover: look past his polite words and you will see that he is not the only one who disapproves of your choices. You went south as the King in the  _ independent _ North and returned….”

“...as the warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell and the next co ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, betrothed to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen- Aye I know- and I see nobody complaining, but you.” 

“You cannot see properly, Jon...she has blinded you.”

He should not , but he was surprised. _ Exactly how Daenerys said.  _ Not even a couple hours after his return home and Sansa was already questioning Jon´s decisions...and, as his experience as Lord Commander showed him, if he allowed this to pass, her next step would be to question his authority and them, finally, his legitimacy.

“You are to organize the feast as I told you.” Jon said bluntly. “ If you are unable to do the simplest of jobs, Sansa, you cannot expect me to believe you are capable of doing the difficult ones. At some point, I will go south. Brandon and Arya have returned home. Gods willing, so will Rickon. You are far from the only choice I have for Winterfell. You should be trying harder.”

The shock, mayhaps even the hurt, was obvious. 

This was not what Sansa had expected to hear. 

“Excuse me, Your Grace- I have a feast to organize.”

When Sansa was by the door, Jon addressed her one last time . “ I will go to Winter Town and send the bards over- let them in.”

***

Jon found most of the Free Folk at Wintertown, all under Mance Rayder´s roof. 

“ I see I was right in assigning you one of the bigger houses in the city.” Jon said as a way of breaking the ice. “ You might see more movement here. There will be more troops occupying the other houses. You should all think about wintering here, with the Mountain Clans and peasants. There will be plenty of work and your customs will be respected. Actually, we need bards for the feast tonight.”

Mance said he would be sending in musicians, but he, a talented bard, would not be in attendance. “ No patience for being restricted in my choices of songs. Anyway, we do need to talk, discuss not only the walkers, but a more permanent solution, King Crow. We are, of course, glad you kept your word.”

“ We are to meet tomorrow, for a war council, with the Lords that managed to either come or send envoys. The Free folk should be represented too...it would be a good time to disclose your presence, Mance.”

If his last dealings with Winterfell were any indication, whatever they would say would fall on dead ears.

Rayder wanted to be spared of the Lord´s stupidity “ Giantsbane should go- he is the only one they know by name in that place.”

“Well, I cannot blame then. “ Tormund happily interjected. “ I am hard to forget” 

The room went down, in laughter. For a moment, Jon was happy to be back- but his good feelings did not last long.

A female voice cut through the room : “Others have not forgotten about you, King Crow.”

“ _ Val. _ ”

***

Just one look at Aurane, who was down on the tables with the Unsullied and dothraki officers, and Daenerys could tell he was amused.

The “ feast” had been clumsy put together- and it showed it.

But feasting they were.

“Is rare boar meat a staple of northern cuisine?” 

“Not particularly.” Jon took a good look at the cut Daenerys had been given. “ Some blood is fine, but this piece is almost alive. I will be speaking to---”

“No, no, no.” waived Daenerys nervously. She had already prepared herself for the fiasco by eating the apples Irri had brought her, a slice of warm bread and butter. “ I imagine the cooks were not expecting the change in the menu and it would be unjust to blame them. Irri told me where the kitchens are- I will make sure to pass by before I am to retire.”

“Sleepy already?” Other than the occasional bout of nausea her constant tiredness was among the most pronounced of her pregnancy symptoms.

Marwyn had told Daenerys this would get better as she approached the quickening, before getting worse again right around her due date. 

“Yes. Do you think they would take offense if I left now? In this case, I think it would be good if you stayed longer. Is Arya meeting with us?”

“I met her at the weirwood tree. We spoke. She is coming. I think she will understand.”

Daenerys offered Jon a smile.  _ Maybe this meeting with Arya went better than our arrival. _ “ This gladdens me, Jon. The music was very good, actually. I thought there would be more than two songs- had I known, I would have complimented them more enthusiastically.”

“They are members of the Free Folk. You complimented them well enough. They must have gone to their own feasting, where they are free to sing what they want. I assume they were told not to use foul language in your presence.”

“This explains why only two songs.” Daenerys giggled. “ I would have liked to hear their other offerings.”

“Twas hard enough to convince them to come in the first place- they were not so happy to see me after all.”

_ Oh.  _

“ Was she there?”

“Aye.”

_ “ King Crow married the Dragon Queen- were your wings not strong enough?” _

_ “I told you the truth in confidence, because I respect you, Val. My marriage is not common knowledge in The North as of yet. Frankly, I did not think you would get upset...” _

_ "This surprised me too, Jon Snow. I thought I knew you. We had an understanding- I suppose I was wrong.” _

_ " Kneelers are different, Val. Once I was made King, I had no other choice. Alliances are made through marriage.” _

_ “I thought kings could do whatever the fuck they wanted...you said you had no choice, so, are telling me she forced you? That you don't lay with her? That you don´t love her? You said you would leave, you said you would travel---I believed you.” _

_ “I wanted to, Val. But things changed. You never asked anything of me. I thought things were clear. She is my wife now, and not only in name. She is my family. I will not go anywhere if not with her. I apologise for---” _

_ “Why are you apologising for? I am a free woman, Jon...not a kneeler like you. You know nothing, your fucking---” _

_ “Val.” They heard Mance´s commanding voice from the door. “ Jon, I believe you said your piece. I will send Tormund over in the morrow, and he will represent us at the war council. You should leave now- give her some time. Your singers will come with you. Feed them and pay them well.” _

_ *** _

Arya Stark said nothing when she entered the room. She expected to find only Jon, but instead, she encountered him sitting by the table, holding hands with no other than the Dragon Queen.

“Please Arya- join us. I believe you want some answers.”

Arya took her seat as Jon had asked her to, her eyes going from her brother to their visitor and back.

“ I am not a child anymore. It is clear what you want to tell me.”

Daenerys spoke first: “We are married, Arya. Seven weeks ago, to be more precise, we married at Storm's End. We decided to confirm the news after the war preparations are done, and have a ceremony at the Godswood. We do not want to ruffle any feathers, by marrying only in the Faith.”

“ I hope you understand, sister. There is no going back to what it was, but together, we can make a much better future. I hope to count with your support.”

“I---I---” Arya did nothing to disguise her shock. Jon- her Jon- was a married man. And what he said, about not going back to what it was...it did hurt her, but it was the truth.

Of all the things she had imagined when living in Braavos, she had never thought about finding her bastard brother, not only as King in the North, but now---King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Apologies, Jon- this is very unexpected.”

“ But good, yes?” Daenerys anxiously asked- then blamed her hormones for such eagerness. “ I am sorry, Arya, but this means a lot to us. Jon loves you most of all. We want you to be part of this---part of our happiness.”

“Tell me what you think, little sister.”

Truth be told, Arya did not know how she felt. She had kept Needle hidden all this time, because Needle was Winterfell- Needle was Jon, and Jon was family.

But when she returned home, she did not find Jon.

She found Sansa. 

And Sansa had changed. Friendlier ,welcoming. A sister, finally. With Brandon...it was more complicated. He had been so young when tragedy struck their family and all that time spent becoming a greenseer…

Yes, nothing would be like it was, which was painful to admit. But Jon was back, Not alone, but back. They hugged each other by the weirwood tree and promised to stay together.,

Arya would like that.

“ You are my brother, Jon. I want to believe we can make everything better. I have heard many things about your wife. Good and bad. But looking at the both of you...are you happy, Jon?

“I am.”

_ This settles it.  _

“ Then I will trust your judgement, Jon.” She snorted. “ Well...King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... a much better option than the fat arsehole and his whore queen, I say.”

***

The next day came and with it, so many little things that bothered Daenerys, she decided to stop counting.

“What do dragons eat, really?”

Daenerys offered no reply- stupidity should never be rewarded with acknowledgement.

The first war council came and went. They were just trying to gather as much information as possible, and come up with an unified plan. Daenerys and Jon presented some ideas; Brandon Stark offered a couple of comments she would later discuss with Marwyn and Qaith… Daenerys still did not know how to speak with Jon about it, but maybe, she would not have to.

So far, Daenerys had not bumped into Samwell Tarly, whom she had no formed opinion on. She had seen Lady Sansa speaking with Lord Tyrion earlier that day, and hoped they had reached an agreement regarding their sham marriage, as it would be an important step in regards to Winterfell´s future.

Daenerys was very keen on returning to her chambers after a second round of discussions with the Lords, when Ser Jorah, who had been walking with her, advised her to go and speak with Sansa.

_ This  _ took her aback. 

“You know what, Ser Jorah- this is a great idea.”

***

Probably more careful with how she behaved around Daenerys, Sansa was the picture of cold politeness.

Daenerys sat there, in front of Sansa, looking deeply into those blue eyes.

“ I _ see  _ you. “

Daenerys stood up, abruptly.

She had said everything she wanted to say.

“ I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

Daenerys took a final, good look at Sansa. “ I bet you do, Lady Sansa- Have a good day.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Family is everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is set to defend the north and Cersei finally makes a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, another long chapter...this after I have decided to go smaller. Ugh.
> 
> Please, let me know if any typos are there. I have no beta and I have edited the best I could, but...

While the morning was bright, it was not without its own terrors, Jon mused.

He was seating by himself, slowly drinking his ale as far from the Great Hall as possible, avoiding the many terrors he would have faced if he showed his face there.

_Lords...family...Ladies...complaints...requests._

All were his responsibilities, as King, as warden, as Lord. Jon knew that. He had no intention in neglecting those who had trusted him but...ignoring them for a couple of hour was what he needed now.

This hard earned moment of solitude, however, was interrupted by his wife, one of the only people Jon had instructed his guards to always allow entrance.

“What is the problem, Jon? You look very distraught.”

Jon inhaled deeply before making a face : “ _Sansa_...wants to have a word with me after breaking her fast. In my short experience , this means she wants me to do something for he, something I would rather not dor.” 

In truth, Jon despaired over his cousin. They had never gotten along and yet, Sansa behaved as if she had always been Jon´s primary occupation. 

This was granting on his nerves, but Jon could barely express his exasperation without leading to even more arguments, and it was easier to simply have Sansa believe what she wanted to believe and go on with his life.

But Sansa was not the only one. If her behaviour was appalling, so was Brandon´s. The once thoughtful boy was gone; Jon had tried to speak about Rickon, whom he still wanted to see again, but Bran´s reaction went from mildly interested to cold aloofness in a matter of seconds.

This had deeply unsettled him.

Jon understood. Partially, at least. They all had changed by the years apart and war . It was only fair that their relationships would also change as a result, but what bothered Jon was to which extent. Arya, broken as she had been by life, was still Arya- but Sansa and Bran?

Jon could not sympathize with neither.

“I take she is on her way since you are here and you would not miss a meal for anything...”

The moment he said it, Jon realized his mistake:“

If this is your way of telling me I am eating too much…”

He covered his forehead with his right hand, slowly shaking his head “...I did not mean this way.” 

This comment served only to remind Daenerys of Irri´s “ prophecy”- that she would grow as round as the moon and have a fat baby. 

And this begged the question: how far along was she? Daenerys knew the exact date of conception, but she also knew that pregnancies developed differently, even at such an early stage, and she could only imagine hers was going faster than usual since not even ten weeks in and her clothes barely accommodate her growing figure and recently gained voluptuous curves

Maybe, Daenerys thought with herself, she needed more time to get used to the realities of pregnancy.

“I should not feel this way.” Daenerys said softly. “I know it is normal and I will only get bigger…”

“More beautiful; more---womanly.” Jon added, his eyes darkening as they moved from Daenerys face to her now ample, generous, inviting bosom.

“My God! “ she exclaimed, feigning offense. “ You are such a pervert!”

“ _My God_!- as in, one God, you mean? Like the Lord of Light?”

 _Shit_. Daenerys had to bite her tongue. She was getting better at it now, but from time to time, her previous life- or the memories of a life, according to Qaith- would come forward and mess with her. 

_Oh well, if I remember correctly about the Holy Trinity, and the Seven being a sort of version of Catholicism...maybe I could spin it---_

” The Seven are One. They are just facets of the same deity. Think about how you have a piece of cloth...and you fold it seven times; It is still a piece of parchment when you unfold it.”

“I apologise- I know you made sure we were wed by a Septon, but I thought it was just due politics- never considered you as a particularly religious woman...”

Well, Daenerys was not religious- at least, not in the sense a westerosi would give to the word. Spiritual perhaps? She had images of lighting candles and feeling at peace when praying. The Starry Sept was beautiful and comforting; the High Septon, not so much. Blind faith did not agree with her rational mind, but just one look at her life and to deny the existence of something higher and all powerful would be to admit she was just hallucinating the whole thing.

And she was not.

In any case, there were other reasons- objective ones- for Daenerys to, at least officially, adhere to the Seven.

“ One of my most ambitious plans is to implement a simple, yet effective, social welfare system. Creating an infra structure out of nowhere would be a nightmare, but using one that is already in place and that has been doing what I want to do, albeit in a smaller scale and using different methods, is a smart move. “

“So, is this a primordially political decision, is this what you are saying?”

Not really. It had also to do with Daenerys wish not to resort to Magic everytime she had a problem. If she was being quite honest, while she was thankful for all the help Qaith had offered her, she would rather not grown dependant on it. 

“ We both know that Magic is real, that it can make things happen that otherwise would not, but it does come with a price. Life and Death- one pays for the other. Both the Lord of Light and the Old Gods accept gifts of blood. It does not sit well with me. I would rather take another path. If you believe, like I do, that words have power, then prayers have power too. And they cost nothing.”

Obviously, supporting organized religion _would_ cost Daenerys something: _gold_. Tons of it. But she saw it as an investment, something that would just add value to her rule.

Daenerys, however, had no intention of becoming a new Baelor the Blessed. Religion was a potentially contagious topic she wanted to avoid. Nothing good would come out of zealots, and she, for once, was glad Cersei had dealt a mortal blow on the sparrows movement. 

The religious tolerance Westeros had experienced for centuries before the red priests took an interest in converting the continent would be observed, if Daenerys had any say in it. 

And, since she had married an Old Gods follower, Daenerys would not only be preaching religious tolerance, but living it, but, speaking of Old Gods…

” When do you think would be a good time to announce our intention of marrying at the Godswood?”

Arya had confirmed to Daenerys the last of the northern lords expected at Winterfell had just arrived. Because not everyone had dragons able to travel long distances, soon these lords would be returning to their Keeps, to prepare their people for war .

“ I must tell Sansa…” Jon shook his head once again. “ I never thought I would feel so lost at Winterfell as I fell now.”

” have no wish of speaking about your sister, Jon.” Daenerys wished they could spend this little time doing something more... _pleasurable_.

“ I missed you in my chambers.” she said in a seductive voice, wetting her lips for good measure. 

Daenerys took two steps forward, sitting on Jon´s lap, who did not make any move to dissuade her

And why would he move, Jon asked himself? Daenerys long fingers were unlacing his breeches, her warm breath speaking on his ear: 

“ There is another way we can tell Sansa…”she clicked his earlobe, biting it ever so slightly. “ a much _better_ way.”

Now vigorously pumping his cock faster and faster, Daenerys kissed Jon hatred on his lips, the fluffness of his growing beard massaging her cheeks

“ I am about to---”

Either his stamina was not what used to be, or his body missed hers terribly, but Jon was nearing his climax a few moments into this delicious interlude. 

“Good to know danger excites you. “ and judging by the state of her panties, Jon was not the only one. 

Unfortunately, she had chosen a more formal attire for the day- it would take some time for Daenerys to rid herself of all that fabric and ride her dragon properly and time was something she did not have:

“ Enjoy…” she whispered lightly. “ You can make up for me later on.”

 _Of course I will. “_ I can do it now…”

While Daenerys would have liked that, they had a war to prepare and many people vying for their attention. 

“No, you can not.” She said in a mockingly grave tone. “ You have your beloved sister to meet.”

Jon´s mood returned to its previously low state once the door closed.

***

Giddy and flushed after the morning encounter, Daenerys left the room with high hopes of bumping into Sansa and leaving the young woman wondering what was going on, but instead, she found another pair of deep blue eyes staring at her.

“Lord Brandon” Daenerys greeted him in an icy tone. “ are you following _me_?”

“Yes.” Bran replied curtly.

 _Well, at least he did not lie_. Daenerys hated liars. “Care to explain why exactly, my Lord Brandon, are you following me? Have I given you any offense?”

“I cannot see you...” Brand answered softly. “ Before crossing, I saw _you._..and the dragon. Now, I cannot see....much of anything. Why ?What have you done?”

 _So, the Three Eyed Raven wants answers? I will give him nothing_. “ I should be the one taking offense here,Lord Brandon. You have no right to come and ask me why you cannot read my thoughts, or see my future- or whatever it is that you do in that weirwood of yours.”

On one hand, Daenerys was pleased. The ritual had worked and Brandon was clocked from seeing anything about her future.

But on the other hand, if he was to be believed the ritual had worked so well as to have blocked any vision. _This is bad, but how bad?_

Daenerys very imperfect knowledge of a possible future would definitely not be enough to answer the puzzle of the white walkers true origins and how to defeat them- they would have to think about something else...

“I apologise if I have given offense, but we are losing time. I want to help. It is very, very important that I see. Great many things depend on my ability...great many things”

Not quite as robotic as a certain iteration of his, this Bran, with his gaunt features and sparse words, had done very little to gain Daenerys trust and, since the books were incomplete and the show had done little to answer the mystery of who Brandon really was, she would have to look at the facts before her and be led by her intuition alone.

Brandon Stark had been a child when the war started and, as impossible to determine what kind of adult he would grow up to be, the bulk of a child´s personality was already formed by its first decade and the important life experiences would just help mold an already shaped form.

Personality wise, Brandon appeared to be a middle son whose unrealistic hopes of becoming a Kings guard, something that would have made his mother proud, were bound to end in disappointment for his lack of martial talent. As far as Daenerys knew, Brandon was also not an exceedingly bookish type, seemingly carefree enough to spend his days mindlessly climbing walls and those immense privilege had impaired his survival instincts, since his failure at minding his own business caused him to stumble on something he, had he been the son of a scullery maid, would know to avoid.

A good hearted boy with a middling emotional and intellectual range traumatized by a series of violent events, who arrived at the Three Eyed Raven Cave with expectations that would not be met, only to be initiated into the upper echelons of an unorganized religion where a God is literally a member of a hive mind... Daenerys doubted Brandon Stark would have grown to become the sort of level headed, compassionate, empathetic person she expected a political and religious leader to be.

And his words…they had a... _strange_ quality, almost menacing one could say.

_“It is very, very important that I see. Great many things depend on my ability...great many things”_

“Be as it may, Lord Brandon, I cannot help you with this particular problem.”

The other known greenseer, Brynden Rivers, was not a good comparison to Brandon. He had maintained some of his humanity until the end, but he had also been a real person when he went with the Children of the Forest, a grown man with grown man experiences and a full life behind him. 

_Circumstancial evidence_. Would it be enough as to completely write Brandon off? 

Daenerys did not know- nor cared.

Brandon, she decided, was Jon´s cousin. If someone would know to trust or not trust him, it would be Jon, not he, who barely knew the boy.

***

Before sailing North, it was agreed that Ser Barristan would not leave mainland, staying on the outskirts of King´s Landing where he was to closely monitor the situation and command Daenerys forces if needed be.

“I hope it will not be the case, but, if you feel the situation is reaching a breaking point, Ser Barristan, you may send for me.”

And it had happened: Ser Lyonel Selmy, the Knight of Harvest Hall, a great nephew of Ser Barristan, had just arrived at Winterfell from White Harbour, having sailed a couple of days after Daenerys and Jon.

Daenerys had sent Missandei on missions south, first at Dorne, then the little scribe was set to return to the Crownlands where she would join Ser Barristan, flying on scouting missions at the commander´s behest and, only if in case of attack, was for Missandei to ever fly North, not only because Daenerys did not want to lose her friend and dragon son, but also because her northern plan depended on the only two dragons be seen there, as it had happened this way in that other reality.

” What day is today?” Daenerys asked after she had finished reading the parchments Ser Barristan had sent her.

She had truly lost count of time- damm pregnancy brain!

“The eight day of the fourth month, Your Grace.”

_This gives me five days._

“ I will fly in the morrow- I should be south the day after. “

***

Tyrion Lannister was looking forward to the next hour, having accepted Lady Sansa´s invitation to join her for refreshments at her parlor. His wife- at least for the time being- had blossomed into a beautiful, self assured woman he was eager to know more about, women and wine having always been two of his greatest interests in life.

But alas, it was not to be. Tyrion had been summoned for a meeting with Queen Daenerys, who sent two guards to escort him immediately to her quarters.

Obviously assuming the Queen would be questioning him regarding the issue of his marriage to Lady Sansa, Tyrion was the first to admit he still had no answer to give:

“Your Grace, I was about to have a conversation with my Lady wife when I received your message. I am afraid I do not have any new developments to report.”

Her Grace seemed unfazed by this bit of news. “ Tis of no importance, my Lord Tyrion.” She gave her advisor a polite smile, tilting her head slightly to the left, where a wooden stair was. “ Please, take your seat.”

“While it is true you do have a record to set with the Lady Sansa, I am afraid she is not the only woman of noble birth requiring your attention, Lord Tyrion.”

Her Grace extended to Tyrion a rolled parchment, with a familiar seal. _Cersei_. 

“ I suppose news of my arrival reached my most august sister.” Tyrion quipped, trying to hide his nervousness while he unrolled the paper.

Tyrion had reasons to fear the contents of this letter. Cersei would take the news of his return as a great affront, even greater than his escape. This time around, however, he could not count on Lord Varys, to rescue him, nor with Illyrio Mopatis, who housed him and fed him before sending him to Aegon.

would this story be different had Tyrion stayed with Aegon? the kid had ambition, but no dragons. and Tyrion wanted revenge.

All in all, this could be very well be the best possible scenario- and this was a sobering thought. Had not been for Ser Jorah´s kidnapping, Tyrion might have met the Dragon´s Queen under very different circumstances. He climbed the ladder as fast as he could, and while the title she had given him was not his first time, he had grown in that role.

_Mayhaps I should have requested her to send me away on another mission instead of asking to stay so I could help her...help her get me my revenge._

The war, however, had taken so manys trange turns as to have left Tyrion momentarily stunned. Neither Euron Greyjoy, a tested and tried admiral, nor Aegon, a young man of great ideas, had proven to be a match for the Targaryen Queen. They were both defeated. Euron was killed in action while Aegon bent the knee...but Cersei…

Cersei not only had survived, but sat at the Iron Throne.

Despite her inability to make good decisions, and probably due a combination of complete absence of scruples and ample amounts of cruelty, Cersei had outlived all her enemies and crowned herself Queen- if not of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen nevertheless.

And this unwelcomed surprise- Cersei being more like Tywin than anyone had ever imagined- was the biggest threat to Tyrion´s life as of yet.

_Should have eliminated the odious woman early on...had I been by the Dragon Queen´s side, I would have advised her so._

Would Daenerys had listened had Tyrion shared his ideas? This, he could not know. The Dragon Queen listened to council, this was true, but it was also true that she had a most splendid head over large shoulders and she tended to use her assets to great advantage. 

Alas- the impredicabilities of life…

Having just finished reading the parchment handed to him, Tyrion spoke in a concerned tone: 

“ My sister demands, as gesture of good will, I to be delivered in her custody for a trial and, if you do not agree with her terms, she threatens to, and I quote _fight fire with fire._ ” 

If someone knew what Cersei meant by that, this person was Tyrion Lannister. He harbored no doubts she was not making idle threats and could see Queen Daenerys was taking the situation very seriously, as she should.

“ What are you going to do next, Your Grace?” he asked softly

“ Cersei gave us a deadline. Ser Barristan has been negotiating with her as to buy us time, she being under the impression we are on Dragonstone .This works on our favour. However, there are many things that do not work on our favour I must take into consideration…”

Daenerys went to point out that, while Cersei´s isolation gave them an advantage , it would be a mistake to consider only through a positive angle: 

“Cersei might lack a Master of Whispers, but she has a high ranking pyromancer in her Small Council and a well trained City Guard. “ Tyrion might have been partially to blame for this: he had exiled Janos after all. “ We have saved about a third, the ones who managed to evade the city. These know the truth and have seen the attack. But the City Guard recovered from the attack and acted swiftly. Pyromancers were able to control the fires after a couple of days- they citizens looked inside the city might see Cersei as a good Queen.”

Not only that, but the richest area of King´s Landing was practically intact. Daenerys assumed most of the visiting nobles and the living courtiers at the Palace were alive, a big portion of rich merchants and quallified workers. “ With less mouths to feed, Cersei might have increased the rations to the poors- if so, then we would face some resistance, were I to enter the city.”

This was bad news for Tyrion. Daenerys Targaryen was not only a conqueror, but a liberator- she would not allow so many innocents lives to be lost only to save his precious, noble neck.

Any other Lord would not think twice. The lives of the smallfolk were nothing; they were meant to sow their seeds and die in their wars, with some believing the higher the death numbers, the better, and if there would be deaths, if it served to save one noble life, than it would have been worthy it.

Could Tyrion, perhaps, persuade Daenerys to ignore the risks? To be more ruthless? Surely, a direct attack on Cersei was still on the table. It would come at a high cost, but it was also the easiest way to end the war, and it would send quite a message for anybody who dared opposed her---

But who would oppose her, a woman with three dragons?

“ Cersei might be seen as their saviour, whereas you, Lord Tyrion....”

“... I am the odious half man who threatened their lives before murdering my own Father and…”

“...joining my cause, yes.”

Daenerys mentioned they believed Lord Tarly and his heir were still alive, and on Cersei´s side. The Faith Militant had delivered custody of Queen Margaery to Lord Tarly, and the last thing anyone knew was that the reachman had not personally escorted the late Queen to the Great Sept that fateful day.

Cersei was capable of many things, including the eventual smart move- and counting with the support of Lord Tarly would be a smart move.

“Then, it is settled I suppose- the reason why the question of my marriage is not longer relevant- Lady Sansa is to be a widow. “

Daenerys poured Tyrion a goblet of wine, which he took it with immense glee.

Would it be the last? 

“Take heart, Lord Tyrion.” The Dragon Queen said in a soothing voice, her eyes looking at him with sympathy. “ I do not know what the future holds, but I can promise you one thing: I will not deliver you to Cersei---or at least, not like she wants me to…”

Tyrion had been ready to smile and to leave a sound of relief escape his wet lips until he heard the last part of the sentence…” What do you mean with _at least not like she wants me to,_ Your Grace?”

What could this mean? Tyrion had killed a Lannister already- would Daenerys ask him to kill another? 

_Poison, perhaps…but Cersei would never accept anything from me...my hands, maybe? like_

Daenerys interrupted Tyrion´s musings, speaking firmly : “I will not treat Cersei as if she was a rightful Queen. I will not tolerate threats or demands. I do, however, think a family reunion is in order- you, your sister, your brother…”

 _Jaime._ They had left in bad terms. Tyrion saw to that. Did he still care for his brother? The only member of his family to treat him with a modicum of love?

 _Yes_. Tyrion did. But would Jaime even believe Tyrion? He was truly sorry about Myrcella...about Tommen. 

Had Jaime left Cersei after Tyrion revealed his infidelity? Had he believed Tyrion when he told him...or maybe, he convinced himself Tyrion was lying about everyone- he surely was about Moonboy- maybe he did not believe a word and...

No, Jaime knew the truth. About Cersei and her many affairs. Jaime had heard Tyrion and believed in him. But it would have not been enough for him to completely disown Cersei. She was not only his lover- she was his sister. Now, after they lost everyone, from sons to a daughter, from their mother to their father, they were the only ones left.

They would stay together, Tyiron knew, if not for love, for fear of being alone.

What was Tyrion to Jaime now, if not the killer of their father? Cersei, whorish as she was, had given Jaime children. Had given him pleasure. Yes, she had given pleasure to others, but Cersei had never taken anything Jaime cared about from him before and Tyrion could not say the same. 

“I made sure to burn every bridge I had before I left, Your Grace- I am afraid Jaime wants me as dead as Cersei.”

What Daenerys said next should not have, but it did surprise Tyrion. “ Jaime Lannister is a general of war locked in a city.He has no claims to any land as he is a Kingsguard, and has been treated as a pawn in the game for as long as he had lived- I do not seek anything from your brother, Lord Tyrion.”

Yes, Tyrion agreed, Jaime could have been so more, so much more...but he was not. 

How many seconds chances a person was expected to have before finally wiseng up ?

Jaime had numerous second chances and he was, still, back to where he had always been.

“Lord Tyrion, I am a woman of my word. I will not allow Cersei to execute you, but I cannot promise you are not to die once we leave these walls. We are at war, and death is always a possibility. I must warn you, though, not to expect I extend the same regard I hold you onto your brother. It pains me to say, but Ser Jaime Lannister is expendable- to me and to Cersei.”

His life pending on the scale, Tyrion Lannister could not afford to advocate for the brother he still, despite all, loved dearly.

“I understand.”

***

Sansa arrived at Jon´s study only to find it empty, save for a couple of guards she did not know their name.

“Where is Lord Jon?” she asked in confusion.

“ at the Crypts, my Lady.”

Sansa thought it was rude of Jon not to have waited for her, but kept her irritation to herself. She would have arrived earlier if not for a problem with the ovens she had been called to see it, and this took much longer to solve because Arya had been at the stables. 

After leaving Jon´s quarters, Sansa crossed the corridors, going to the library. There, she found Samwell Tarly debruced over parchments, a quickly glance to the left revealing the strange maester the Dragon Queen had brought with her also in attedance.

“ may we have a word,Samwell?”

The conversation did not take long. Samwell was a good person, one with a big heart. Sansa trusted him to do what was right , like she trusted many others, Tyrion included, his allegiance to the Targaryen Queen notwithstanding.

After this brief conversation, Sansa returned to her own quarters, where a small note informed her next appointment had been cancelled. 

Unsure what to do next- her morning plans had been derailed by that awful kitchen failure- Sansa decided some time to herself was at order:

“ _Darla_. “ Sansa called for her maid. “ Would you please run me a warm bath? And use the oils and herbs I brought from the Vale.”

The young, plumper woman bowed her head and mummured a “ yes, my Lady” before disappearing.

As it would take some time until her bath was ready, Sansa sat at her desk, using the next half an hour to do some neglected, but important paper work. She reviewed the receipts Winterfell had received in the weeks prior, the many orders that had arrived and been processed not by her personally, but by the steward and Arya, but that needed her seal before being filed in their proper places.

Not even five minutes in, Sansa´s mind had already wandered- bookkeeping was a boring affair.

“So many things are happening here, under my roof…” Sansa fekt useless, dealing with paper work while the real game was being played. 

“I should go and speak with Brandon again… see what he has to say…discuss many important things...”

***

“She is on her way, my Lord.”

Jon jolted from his desk, thanked Ser Marlon for his assistance, and prepared his escape.

“I will be at the crypts in case she asks.” Jon managed to say before running as fast as he could. He counted on Sansa not daring disturb a visit to the Crypts with whatever it was she wanted to discuss for a few hours of peace, sure that whatever she wanted to say could wait some more.

Besides, Jon was not lying. He would be at crypts. He had so far avoided paying his respects to the woman he now knew was his mother and the only father he had known.

There Jon stood, looking at Lyana´s face, not so different of Arya. He prayed never to be forced apart from his children, swearing he would do anything in his power to protect them, no price high enough to pay for their well fare…

And then, Jon heard some footsteps.

 _“Samwell?”_ he asked

“Jo--Jon---” his friend stuttered, face red, eyes swollen. “ My apologies- I need a word. Your sister told me to come...”

“Sansa told you to come here?” Seeing Samwell´s state of distress, Jon had no time to get angry at this interruption. _What is the meaning of this?_

“ Please, Sam- speak.”

“The Dragon Queen...you are bethroted... you will go south and fight for her...I would ask you not to, Jon… I spoke with Brandon...there are things about you that you do not know ...about your parents…who they were…it changes everything.”

“You spoke to Brandon?” 

Samwell nodded. “ Yes, I did...I have been speaking with Lord Brandon and Lady Sansa... they are your family, Jon, even though your birth parents... _your mother_...Brandon can see things and he saw you, as babe, in Dorne...the son of....”

“...Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.”Jon said for his friend to hear-

“You knew ?” Samwell sounded both incredulous and alarmed, clearly surprised by Jon´s admission. “and you _still_ plan on marrying her, even though you were raised a Stark? Jon, you have a claim... She will go south and burn everyone who does not bend the knee… you must stop her, Jon...you are the only one who can stop her...she will burn everyone, including my father and ---”

Jon knew he had a temper and that, sometimes, he failed to control it. 

Right now, after having this peaceful at the crypts moment interrupted by a very distressed Samwell Tarly, whose irrational fears and unfounded accusations was grating on Jon´s nerves, he was fighting to keep his voice down and not scream at his friend.

“Sam, you should not speak about things you do not know.” No matter this came out harder than Jon would have wanted and that Samwell flinched- it was the truth and he would speak it: “ You do not know _her_ and _,_ if you think I would forget my duty just to save your father´s life, you do not know _me,_ Sam. But no matter, I will tell you what _I_ know, if you only care to listen.”

Jon could sympathize with a son pleading for his father´s life, but what Sam was asking of him was to commit treason.

This was a strange request from a friend who was usually so level headed, especially considering what he knew of Samwell´s relationship to his father, but alas, blood was indeed thicker than water and Jon would not be judging Samwell for this.

However, asking a friend to forget about honour because it is suitable was something Jon would not allow it:

“Lady Tarly, your mother, told her Liege she had not received any correspondence from your Lord Father since he left. Your Lady Mother believes him to have been killed in the explosion of the Sept, to have died doing his Duty, but Lady Olenna believes otherwise. She thinks your father betrayed her for political gain and is hiding at the Capital. You should be thanking Daenerys Targaryen, not advocating against her, seeing as she personally persuaded Lady Tyrell not to move against your family´s Keep, and to recognize the rule of your Ladies Mother and sister at any event- because, Samwell, if your father is alive, and is by Cersei´s side, then he is a traitor and in this case, Samwell, I am in agreement to treat him as such.”

Jon also had no wish to discuss his marriage with others, especially in relation to both his sides of the family. “ You should ready the annals of House Stark. Two instances of marriages between uncles and nieces and, if you care about families, you should remember Daenerys _is_ my family too.”

Tarly looked at Jon as if he had never seen him before. On the verge of tears, he spoke in a barely audible, shaky tone: “ my brother…only four and ten...with my father.”

_I have forgotten about his brother ... Samwell is right...four and ten is much too young not to be given a second chance....but completely innocent? This is yet to be seen._

“ Dickon is an adult by Law.” Jon replied, visibly uncomfortable. “ If it comes to be, I will see what can be done for him, Sam. He did follow his father, but as his son and heir, it was expected. More, I am afraid I cannot promise. Is it clear?”

Samwell gave a resign nod and muttered a “ thank you” before fleeing the crypts, leaving a consterned Jon behind.

***

“I must take part of a war council meeting now. We are to meet after supper, at my study and present this idea to Jon.”

For the sake of discretion while at Winterfell, Qaith wore a veil instead of her starlight mask, leaving only the shape of her eyes uncovered.

“Certainly, Daenerys Stormborn.” 

Daenerys had half a mind at admonishing Qaith by addressing in such a formal way, but she stopped herself.

Could she really see Qaith calling her Dany?

Not really.

_Familiarity would detract from her air of mystery and wisdom, make people even doubt her magical proweses if she were to speak like other people do…she is not, after all, like other people._

Outside Daenerys study she found both Ser Jorah and Tyrion already waiting for her, their faces showing concern and anxiety.

“Khaleesi. “ Jorah said in his melodious voice.” I have been told we are to leave to the south.”

Daenerys side eyed Tyrion, the obvious source of the information. “ Lord Tyrion, I hope you did not disclose our plans to anyone else. Although Ser Jorah has my complete confidence, issues of this importance are to be discussed in private, not on anterchambers.”  
  


“Apologies, Your Grace, it will not happen again.”

“ Better not, Lord Tyrion- better not.” Daenerys could only hope the little man to keep his mouth shut from there onwards. She knew how intelligent liked to show how smart they were, especially when there is a woman to impress, and Tyrion, a vain, insecure, amoral man, was still married to Sansa Stark.

She doubted Sansa would even try going there, but, if she did, Daenerys would not be disappointed.

She would actually be amused, precisely because it would not end well- for Sansa.

“ Ser Jorah, we speak later. It is best most of the retinue I brought North to remain here, at least for the foreseeable future, any change dependable on the plan we agree on.”

Mormont received the news with quiet resignation. It was obvious he was not exactly pleased to be parted, but was not so aggravated as to be left behind in the North.

If on one hand, Daenerys agreed Ser Jorah was among the rare people she could trust to protect her life, on the other hand, he still harboured feelings towards her. This made her feel much less comfortable with him around, especially now that she was pregnant with another man´s child.

“ You are to fight in this northern war, Ser Jorah, as it is only fair. You ran away from these lands because you committed a crime whose punishment was life. I have issued you a Royal Pardon, but the matter of the respect of your countrymen, I feel can only be addressed if you join them when they most need- this will also serve to convince them my judgment of you is true, and that I will be a fair Queen, not one to forgive and forget anything from a favorite.”

Stubborn, as he was, Jorah Mormont would rather ask for forgiveness in act than in words: fighting for the North would allow him the chance at honouring his Lord Father one last time.

“I will stay and fight, Khaleesi...I shall regain some of the honour I lost, or die trying. “

They walked to the war council in silence, arriving to find the place almost empty ,save for a couple of Lords and some Knights speaking by the fireplace.

Thankfully, Jon too had arrived earlier. “ A quick word?”

The room was large, but the snowy balcony provided an extra layer of privacy, so they moved there.

 _"Brrr--_ -it is cold.”

Jon watched her cheeks grown redder and lips, quiver. ”Tell me, so we can return to the warmth of the fireplace…”

“Cersei has sent me an ultimatum. I am flying South, with Tyrion, tomorrow.”

Jon wrinkled his forehead : “Not enough time, Dany---you promised…” 

“Yes, and I found a way. I spoke with Qaith. The armies and the fight will only be needed as a distraction. The real fight will be between our Magic and theirs. We both have a role to play.”

“ You sound very sure.” While Jon did not know nor trust Qaith, Daenerys did - he trusted and knew _her._ “ So far, you have been proven to be more right than wrong. While you made your thoughts on Magic clear this morning, and I share them to some extent, I never believed we would defeat them fighting only with our swords and arrows. What is the plan?”

“There are two sides of this plan, Jon, and the first side we must agree on this council. We should establish the three barriers of the North, as we have been discussing, and a final one at the Trident. This will be our distraction.”

Establishing diversions was a very effective war tactic and Jon had done so in the past, but they could not, at this point, after all The North had lost, to say their fighting would only be half of the plan. 

“Very well, I support the idea. Once south, you can organize your forces- since you are leaving, we might aswell present this as a positive, not a negative.”

“ Great minds think alike!” Daenerys said in a singing voice, winking at Jon and prompting him to leave some of his harshness behind and smile back.

***  
The meeting started with the arrival of an unexpected guest: Lord Commander Edd Tollet from the Night´s Watch.

“I came as soon as I could, Jon.” 

While the two reports Jon had sent The Wall since leaving had merely explained the advances of his mobilization efforts ( the first one, informing of Robb´s will and his new status as King in the North; the second one, about their alliance with Daenerys and the Northern Lords Council at Winterfell), he also made sure to invite Edd to join them, not expecting he would.

“ Lord Commander Tollet, it gladdens me that you came. May I introduce you our ally, Queen Daenerys Targaryen?”

Tollet bowed .“ Your Grace.”

“ Lord Commander, I am very happy to make your acquaintance. The Night´s Watch is an institution whose purpose is to defend the realms of men, and this can only be done from a position of strength.” 

_Well, no better time than now._ “The Night´s Watch had been indebted to the Iron Bank- but not anymore. The debt has been paid off by me, and now, before this assembly, I declare the Night´s Watch owes me _nothing._ ”

While this meant very little to the Free Folk in attendance, it meant a lot to the northern lords and most of the Valemen, and some openly praised Daenerys for the gesture, while the Lord Commander thanked enthusiastically.

Sansa arrived only then, after Daenerys had made the announcement, wheeling in Brandon.

“Apologies, Jon.” Sansa said in a small voice. “ I have been busy and lost track of time.”

With her hair combed backwards, slightly wet and pressed features, Sansa looked embarrassed already and Jon did not want to add more up. “ Tis fine. Please, take your seats.”

Turning his attention back to the meeting, Jon addressed his former colleague: “ Your presence should help us better determine the nature and the extent of our efforts, Lord Commander. Any reports?”

“ Two consecutive storms hit Eastwatch in the last weeks, but no structural damages were observed, Your Grace.”

 _Eastwatch._ Daenerys would have snorted in contempt for that particular nonsensical storyline, but since she had avoided The Wall like a plague and , more importantly, did not plan on flying there if she had any say in it, there would be no ice dragon bringing the wall down this time around.

So, the question remained : how would the White Walkers cross?

Bothered by the Lord Tollet´s news, Daenerys addressed Bran in order to confirm her suspicions:

“Lord Brandon, we spoke earlier about your wish to help. You have survived after meeting the white walkers not long ago. Do you believe they could be behind these storms Lord Commander spoke about?”

“ Possibly. Maybe. They bring the cold with them. We left under a storm so cold it burnt my arm.”

“ _Burnt you_?” Daenerys exchanged glances with Marwyn, who had been asked not to draw much attention to himself and sat beside Aurane, who would always stick out like a sore thumb, but seemed not to care so much.

“Yes. You heard him. “ Sansa said in a firm tone. “ Bran was _burnt_...by them. It left a mark on him.”

 _Well, that is usually what happens when someone is burn._ Daenerys chose not to reply to Sansa, but to ask Marwyn his opinion : “ Archmaester, do you think we should have this scar checked ?Mayhaps it has unique properties…”

Visibly upset, Sansa vehemently protested the suggestion : “My brother is _not_ to be subjected to such… _.experimentation_ s....” As Jon gave her a look of great dissaproval,she was also quick to recover from her outburst, feigning the courtesy she had so fragrantly forgotten : “ he is just a boy, _Your Grace_.” 

Despite Sansa´s obvious distress in expressing concern for her brother, Jon sought to reprimand his cousin for it, hoping it would prevent her from such displays again : “Peace, Sansa; there is no need to feel so aggravated. We are merely discussing our options.” 

“ and mayhaps “ Daenerys added with a forced, yet gentle smile “ Lady Sansa is right: sometimes a burnt is just a burnt, nothing more.“

“We need to reinforce the Wall” declared Jon, eager to move forward with the meeting. “ It has been our first line of defense against any attack for thousands of years.”

The northern Lords eyed Tormund with suspicion, and this did not fail to be observed by Jon. _They probably count the wildlings as one of the many things beyond the wall that needs to stay there_. 

Jon should have expected this, the old prejudices would not die so fast, but it made him disappointed in his own people neverthless.

They could do better. They _had_ to do better. 

“ We have mined dragonglass and shaped it into enough arrowheads. They can also be used as blade attachments or as daggers.” 

Tollet asked whether they would be transporting some to the wall, and Jon answered in the affirmative, adding that they would also “ have dragons at our disposal, to establish communication lines and scout the lands- however, we shall not use dragons cross The Wall on ranging missions, as the risk is too high---”

“But---why? “ interrupted an outraged, flushed Sansa. “ If dragons are _not_ to fight, why even bringing them over in the first place? Just to eat our food? “

One glance at Jon was enough to see that Lady Sansa was treading on unruly waters now. She, however, so mortified by the fact, had no time to pay attention to her cousin, perhaps satisfied by some nods of approval coming from some northeners and valemen knights.

_I see I must end her over ambitious daydreaming once and for all, and for her own good._

“ Lady Sansa. “ Daenerys began, trying to walk the tightrope between sounding understanding of teh questions and not too condescending as to give offense. “ while you came from the Vale with a regiment , I am informed you did not take part of any militar offensive and has not received martial training as part of your education, which explains the naiviteé of your question. It might see logical at first, to send the dragons not to scout, but to fight, but it is much more complicated than that.”

“Dragons, Lady Sansa, are weapons of mass destruction. Venturing on enemy´s territory, a territory that, is without a doubt, dominated by a Magic that is still largely unknown to us, is the same as risking losing our weapons to the opposite army, which could have catastrophic effects. In short, the risks outweights the gains, and we cannot afford that.”

Daenerys went to further explain the absurdity of Sansa´s notions the best way she could.

“ Moreover, they do bring storms. This means, if we cross paths with them, visibility would be a problem when flying. Dragons are fire made flesh; the white walkers are ice made flesh. They are natural enemies. But we cannot fight what we cannot see, and if I am flying blind, I can very well go against a mountain, Lady Sansa, and since they use necromancy and dragons can die…”

“ Besides, everybody knows not to give away the higher ground advantage in battle and, well, speaking about mountains and higher grounds ---”

From one of her pockets, Daenerys pulled a rolled parchment bearing the seal of House Arryn. This, she handed over to be passed to Lord Royce, who was sitting on the other side of the table, where the Starks and the Valemen were.

“ Your Grace, “ the old man said after reading the document, his head down in deference. “ _we are yours to command_.”

But Daenerys had no wish to command these troops. She had visited Lord Arryn before her wedding, as part of her efforts to unify the Seven Kingdom through diplomatic means, and knowing some of his Knights were still stationed at Winterfell, and in order to prevent any possible manouver, she asked Lord Robin, her warden of the East, to confirm his allegiance in writing.

“Thank you, my Lord Royce. As we are on northern lands, I will leave the command of the first and second lines of defense to our Warden, Jon of House Stark. By agreement with Lord Robert Arryn of the Eyrie, you and the Knights of the Vale will remain at Winterfell, to help defend it in case our enemies manage to breach. Your return to the Vale or your retreat to the third line of Defense at The Neck will be decided by the Warden of the North, as the Warden of the East is too young to join our fight.”

Sansa´s armor of courtesy had been cracking since the moment Daenerys stepped into the courtyard at Winterfell, but her wits had not deserted her.

“Your Grace, now that you explained, I do understand.” With great pleasure, Sansa enunciated every syllable of her next sentence, which she spoke on a slightly louder tone than the previous, as for everyone to hear.” _Dragons are not invencible._ ” 

Pleased with the jab, Sansa smiled: “ I thank you, Your Grace, for allowing the Knights of the Vale to remain. They are a force to be reckoned with and I am sure, with their assistance, Winterfell will not fall, even if the Wall does and the White Walker cross.”

Sansa´s insolence disguised as carefree honesty would remain unanswered. Daenerys truly did not believe the north woman would be capable of leading a rebellion with the small army her cousin had lent her. Now, with Lord Royce informed about his overlord´s allegiance, he would be incurring in treason if he was ever to follow this route.

But then again, Daenerys was a rational person. She knew the rules this people adhered to, tried to inform herself about their motivations and loyalties, and took informed decisions based on the variable she could see. 

In other words, it would made no sense whatsoever for Sansa ever rising in rebellion with Lord Royce´s help, but since absolutely nothing in the story Daenerys had learned by travelling through dimensions had made sense, then she could not honestly rule this possibility yet.

Besides, something that Sansa had said- about the wall falling, had only served to solidify in Daenerys mind another possibility for disaster.

Using a feather as to point the seas that bordered The Wall at Eastwatch, Daenerys said.

“They bring the cold and the cold is so intense, Lord Brandon said, that it burns flesh. If it burns flesh, it can also freeze waters.” 

Alarmed, Jon looked at the map. Eastwatch, surrounded by waters and small islands. Would their magical cold freeze the waters, as Daenerys suggested?

“The storms the Lord Commander described---it could very well be....”

***

Try as he might, the sight of an oddly comfortable Aurane Water, leisurely lounging on a chaise lounge while Daenerys stood by her desk, speaking with Qaith and Archmaester Marwyn in rushed tones, irritated Jon.

“ Oh, there you are!” his wife exclaimed, worriedly barring the door behind him. “ I hope Sansa was not the one keeping you all this time.”

It was not. “ I was just speaking with Edd, had an ale with him…”

Jon took a seat next to Daenerys and the meeting started.

“Magic needs strength to prosper. Whether is blood, fire, earth or ice, Magic must have a source of power, lest it ceases to exist.”

“Think about the dragons and their return.” Marwyn stated. “ The more dragons, the more magic there was. As the centuries passed and the Doom happened, Magic became more and more limited in its shape and scope, until the day came the dragons were slain, and only the eggs were left behind. The dragons grew weak and weaker, until they died and hatched no more. Their source had been extinguished and only a big sacrifice brought them back.”

Qaith added they needed to find what was keeping the White Walkers from being extinguished, the source of their Power. “We must defeat them all. _Physically_. This is important, that no other force can return them to what they were in the future. We must leave no trace of them, but they will come back if we do not find their source and to do that, we must know how they were made and where.”

In theory, this reasoning was sound, but, as Marwyn explained, it was a case of easily said than done. “ They are not born, but made. Had they been born this way, all we needed do was to find in their body, their weakness. Since they are made, this means they are human beings that have been cursed and turned into magical creatures whose powers include inhuman strength, extended life and necromancy. We know how to individually defeat them, but we also need to defeat the curse... it is like a human body, contaminated by plague. We can cure a person, but it does not mean the plague will not return. We need to do both.”

“We must to send you back,” Qaith told Jon. “ to the place where it all started.”

For obvious reasons, Daenerys foreknowledge was worth nothing in this case. They could, of course, ask Brandon Stark, but since he had admitted to Daenerys his powers were diminished, he might not know.

“ Your cousin- he has a connection to the weirwoods. He spoke to me earlier and said he could no longer see as he could before. Maybe you should take him to the godswood...speak to him without revealing too much, see if he learned anything we could use?”

”Bran can no longer _see_? ” Confused by Daenerys doubts in Bran´s capabilities, it was only then that Jon remembered he was yet to tell her about the crypts. “ Bran knows about me at least. He saw my birth, in a vision. He told Samwell---whatever Bran´s problems are now, they are new.”

_Well, maybe blocking Bran from our minds is the same as blocking Bran from all minds._

It was too late for regretting this step anyway...and there way no way of knowing it would work this way.

Brandon was powerful. Or had been. But being powerful was not the same as being helpful…

“You saw him at the meetings- he can barely answer a question regarding what he knows, even when prompted. Maybe he only shares what he knows with people he trust...or maybe his problems began once he left the cave, before he could access the memories of the white walkers…”

“All this talk in circles will not help.” Aurane proclaimed, pouring himself some wine. Practical man as he was, for Aurane, it was simple. 

”Brandon either knows, or he does not know. If he does know, but does not tell, the result is the same: he cannot be counted on. In this case, I advise all of you to focus on the solution and forget about the damn boy!”

And so they did.

***

Jon waited for his cousins to arrive at the godswood while Ghost sprinted through the woods, wailing at the moon as he ran freely and unbothered.

Jon had wished to tell them about both his marriage and parentage, but Daenerys had asked him not.

_“They will react badly if you share both news…” she said after their secret meeting came to a close. “Arya knows of half and is fine with it, but Sansa and Brandon are not Arya. They might see you as more Targaryen than Stark if you say that not only you are Rhaegar´s son, but also married to your aunt.”_

_He had learned better than to protest the obvious. Sansa clung to her Stark heritage like a cloak that shielded her from a cold night while Brandon had become an Old God himself. Even if they still saw him as part ofntheir family and, in Sansa´s case, would be happy that Ned Stark had not cheated on Lady Stark, they might put the issue of Robb´s will forward in a time when they needed The North united to fight a common war, not a civil one._

_“ I share that Samwell told me at the Crypts of Bran´s vision and that I accept this a the truth, and I make no mention of our marriage and child for now.”_

The snow was falling when the three of them arrived. “

" I want you to swear on the weirwood that, , until I say so, you are not to share this ti anyone.“

***

When the snows stopped falling, Daenerys sighed in relief. “ Thank God…”

“Did you think the white walkers were coming?” Aurane asked her from the table, passing the basket of sliced barley bread to Marwyn. They were breaking their fast at Daenerys quarters, she having decided enough of keeping the appearances have been done.

“Yes- and can you blame me? Things do tend to get much worse before they get better...”

Marwyn waived his hand at Aurane, declining the offered butter, suddenly interested in the exchange. 

“Your Grace does well in exercising her caution, Lord Waters. “ Daenerys mockingly gave Aurane a triumphant smile, enjoying the way he brought levity into her life, even in the face of such great danger. 

“Your Grace, if you can, you should fly as close as possible to the God´s Eye as we suggested last night...” 

Save for Lord Howland Reed, no human being had set foot in that place. Many people, Marwyn included, suspected the place to be the last habitat of the children of the forest, and that a magical barrier had been erected by them to block any contact with mankind. 

“It depends on how cold it will get and how must I go to avoid storms.” 

Daenerys did not sit down to join them, as she had already eaten her porridge and toast before they arrived with only Irri for company, who now helped the Queen to pack, busily stocking a bag full with snacks for the flight. 

“ Please, do not forget the honey biscuits, Irri,...you know how hungry I can get.”

“ Yes, Khaleesi, I _do_ know” Daenerys shuddered. She had woke up twice the night to pee and to...eat a bite. _Poor Irri_. 

“ Honey biscuits and enough flat read for the sickness- I know.”

“ I am sorry, Irri. “ And Daenerys truly was- not even done with first trimester, and her eating habits had already gone haywire. “ I really do not want to have any accidents while flying, you know? It is not that I like bossing you around and remind you of things you do know...I am just scared...”

Daenerys had very vivid nightmares about the poor people at the Riverlands being hit by a rain of puke and she would try her hardest not to make it happen.

Irri waived off Daenerys concerns with caring words: “You are more than a khaleesi to me, khaleesi...and at least you know the name of your servant, unlike the red haired one..”

“Well, keep an eye on everything for me, will you Irri? Especially Sansa and Aurane…”

Hearing his name, Aurane took the opportunity to remind Daenerys he was not really happy at being left behind. “ If you do not trust me, then take me with you…”

 _Mmm...and be tempted by your sexy mouth?no, thank you._ Daenerys would rather _not_ spend any significant time alone with Aurane. She did trust herself- and him, to some extent- but not her damaged pregnant brain: the proximity with the very handsome man could only trigger her imagination and open the door for active daydreaming.

She did not want that. “ You remain at Winterfell for the time being, Aurane. Once I have defeated Cersei, we can all return safely. Do you wish to send a letter to Driftmark?”

“This is actually a good idea” Aurane said as he stood up, returning a couple of minutes later, with a small rolled parchment in his hands. 

“Safe travels, Dany.” he said as he handed Daenerys the letter.

“Thank you, Aurane.” she replied, a slight hint of red colouring her cheeks, ashamed her former lover still had such an effect on her. “ Try and have some fun, will you? I know you get bored easily…”

After the awkward shaking of hands that followed, Daenerys left the room and went to be fitted into her armour. She then waived goodbye to members of her retinue and gave an address to her troops stationed at Winterfell before meeting with Tyrion and summoning Drogon..

Jon was the last person Daenerys spoke to.

“I am sorry we did not get to say our goodbyes more privately…”

Jon too, was unhappy about this, but told her it was of no importance. “ We will see each other soon enough, I know. Be safe, Dany.”

There was no kiss goodbye- not with all those eyes on them, especially Lady Sansa Stark, who had already said her goodbyes to Tyrion, her still husband and was now engaging in a conversation with Samwell Tarly.

“ Be good to yourself, Jon...take care...”

Jon bowed before his Queen. She returned the gesture with a nod, the cold brief hitting her face like a slap. 

“ Until our eyes meet again, Your Grace.” he said in a loud voice, their official goodbye for the Lords to hear and the ladies to comment.

As she mounted on Drogon, Daenerys saw a beautiful blond approaching Jon at the grounds. 

_Val?_

It could only be her. But instead of getting uncomfortable with the sight, Daenerys decided the little annoyance she felt was a good thing.

Perhaps, there would be more in this marriage than political convenience after all.

***

“ They told me the Dragon Queen would be leaving, so I came to see.”

Val´s face was the same as always, strength and beauty sculpted together, her coat of white marking her apart from all other women present.

Jon admired her. He was actually glad to see that Val´s anger had passed- mayhaps they could be friends?

“Dragons are a rare sight, I would too not want to miss.”

“She is a warrior, yes? Mance told me she commands armies, burns her enemies to crisps…”

 _Yes, but she is more than that_. 

“ Yes, she is a warrior queen, not unlike Visenya…”

“This is good. I would have hated if she was one of those... _flowers_ you had at the Castle.”

They both knew Jon would never go for a Lady in a tower, a damsel in distress...

Not if he had any choice in the matter. “ It brings me joy to know you approve, Val.”

“How could I not, Jon?” Val laughed. “ I did not believe when Mance told me, but now I understand. A woman that births dragons is a woman you should be friends with. I can see why you are with her.”

 _Yes, but it is more than that._

Jon wanted to say, but he did not. There were many ears around and many secrets to be kept- Val was free to believe whatever it was she wanted to.

***

Tyrion Lannister kept his mouth shut for most of the flight, fearing his breath might freeze if he was to say something. Luckily, once they crossed, the weather progressely improved, and his butt got less numb.

“ How long more, Your Grace?” Tyrion asked, but there was no answer. He asked again and again, no answer.

Then he cursed himself for his stupidity. _Of course_. The wind was blowing so loudly he could hardly hear his own thoughts, how could he expect Daenerys not only to hear, but to reply to him?. 

They stopped at Riverrun for the evening, where Lord Edmure greeted Daenerys warmly and Tyrion, less so. 

Still, his silver tongue got him some well meaning small talk at the high table that night, and he hoped it would be the same in the morning, but he noticed the Queen was nowhere to be seen and that, his presence alone was not guarantee of a good time.. 

Lady Tully replied his words with shy smiles and single answers. Should be enough, but Tyrion being Tyrion, decided to approach her husband for good measure: 

“ Your niece send her regards, my Lord Tully.”

Unfortunately for Tyrion, Tully´s time as a prisoner of the Freys had turned his warmth civility into direct assertiveness- he would not be mislead by empty courtesies and feigned interest 

“Her Grace mentioned she opened the door for an annulment, Lord Tyrion...and yet...”

“Lady Sansa has other priorities, My Lord…”

“Are you telling me, Lord Tyrion, that my niece was so busy as to not have time to sign a document and have a septa confirm her innocence? It would have taken her not even an hour of her life.” 

Guest rights aside, there was no greater sin a guest could commit than to cause offense to a host. Since Tyrion recognized the Lannisters had caused enough offense already to the Tullys, he retreated.

“ My apologies, Lord Tully. I made the offer, as it is only fair that she will be the one requesting the annulment, but I am more than willing to sign the document myself and declare I never touched her, for the sake of peace and prosperity.”

Lord Edmure did not look as pleased as Tyrion would have hoped, but his words had obviously calmed the man enough as to drop the subject and continue to ignore his presence until Tyrion bowed out and decided to venture to the library. _._

_Well, this did not go as expected._

Four guards had been stationed by the door, observed Tyrion´s every move and he sampled the assortment of literature at his disposal, only to be interrupted by the news that Her Grace had arrived. 

_Arrived? From where?_

“ My Lord Tyrion- I hope you slept well?”

Tyrion thanked for the interest and Daenerys went to explain she had paid some Lords a visit. “ This needs your full attention, my Lord.”

Daenerys Targaryen then pushed to Tyrion a piece of parchment, pointing the ink and the feather by his side. 

“ If you want to live in relative peace, Lord Tyrion, I urge you to sign this document.” 

Due to his previous conversation with Lord Tully, Tyrion assumed this was the annullement- but it was not. 

“ This document...I shall give up all claims to Casterly Rock, recognize the claim of Ser Lucion Lannister, son of Ser Damon Lannister, a cousin of my Lord Father…”

“....yes, and it says there you accept the blame for the unlawful death of your Lord Father and that both partiers accept the judgment of the recognized Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Daenerys of House Targaryen, who had previously offered you a pardon and employment on Essos… it states Lord Lannister will recognize your exile as enough punishment, in views of your Lord father´s many crimes”

Tyrion would not waste time trying to convince Daenerys otherwise...he had been fooling himself this whole time, but now...no more.

How could he have thought Casterly Rock would be a fair price for his assistance? Daenerys Targaryen wanted to be legally recognized, acclaimed even, not thrusted upon a bunch of unwilling Lords by way of her dragons...of course , she could not afford to force the the a dwarf fathered by Tywin Lannister, a kinslayer who murdered his own father, down westerlander´s throats…

Of course she would choose a diplomatic route. She had been doing this the whole time, only using force when the adversary attacked first, and in decisions ways. Of course she would grant Casterly Rock to a young man whose connections to his family were close enough to give him a claim, but distant enough as to not make him bloodthirtsy for revenge...

_Of course._

“I am sorry it has to be this way, Lord Tyrion. I am not the only one who knows the lore of your family. Lord Lucion has heard tales of your wits- he does not want you around, to swindle your way into Casterly Rock, like Lann did. “

Although Tyrion could not blame his distant cousin for this decision, he wondered if things would have been different if he had supported Aegon all along…

_Or maybe even Jon..._

Tyrion silently admonished himself for even contemplating it.

“Will I be sent to The Wall?” he asked, as exile could mean entering the Night´s Watch- he wanted to be sure before being relieved to be allowed to keep his head over his shoulders.

“No- _not you_. “ Daenerys replied. “ Lord Lannister agreed with my terms. I am to confirm your royal pardon you once this is all over, and you are to continue as my Ambassador. I believe, once the dust settles, as time passes, Lord Lannister might agree with you visiting Kings Landing between assignments to speak with me... this is the best I can offer, Lord Tyrion, if you are to survive meeting your sister.”

_...what Sansa said…_

Sansa, beautiful and cunning as she was, had been in The North way too long to understand how the game had changed. Neither Jon, nor the southron lords would go against the Dragon Queen: the Lords because they had more to lose than to win if they rebelled, and Jon because he did not need to…

Jon would be a Targaryen King with a Targaryen Queen by his side, his days as bastard of Winterfell over.

_What Sansa said...made only sense if Jon had no choice…_

But Jon had a choice. A choice he had already made.

“Where is the ink?” Tyrion asked in jest.

***

“She has agreed to your terms- what are we going to do, sweet sister?”

Cersei placed the parchment down, lifting her head upwards to face Jaime. _He worries- why?_ “I will meet her. I will execute the traitor. I will tell her to leave. She has done enough...burning half of my city.”

Jaime did not reply. The lie, told many times, was now a fact- Daenerys had burnt the city, nit Jon Conington. 

It suited their purposes and hid the dissatisfaction among the crowds. Food was scarce. Cersei was preparing for a long siege, seeing time as their advantage, meeting with pyromancers...

Jaime wanted to leave. But he could not. Where would he go? Who would have him? Their children were gone. They had nothing but each other.

When not only one, but two Targaryen claimants came, Cersei decided she needed Jaime. Lord Tarly reminded her their soldiers respected her brother; she would need another general, one with the Lannister surname, one who could do what she, a woman, could not...

Cersei agreed. They found him as a prisoner of a band of outlaws in the Riverlands. The Dragon whore savages were tearing the kingdom apart and Jaime had been caught in the middle of all... but the men sent by Lord Tarly were well trained, and prevailed. The cost was high, Lord Tarly said, but they managed to rescue Cersei´s brother at the nick of time, and she would not care about all the blood spilled, Jaime was worth more than all those peasants combined.

“At the Dragonpit? “ Jaime Lannister understood the difficulties of protecting someone in such an open space as he had spent most of his life serving as a glorified bodyguard. “ We must send guards before hand to make sure the place is secure.”

The place, a ruin, had enough blind spots as it was, but Jaime had to admit meeting on a neutral space was the best they could aim for, considering…

Still, he had a bad feeling about it. _If Daenerys is anything like Brynden Rivers…_

“Do as it pleases you- it must be soon.” 

He had changed; she did not like it. But it was of little consequence- he had stayed. 

  
  


***

Jaime returned later that day, briefing Cersei on his findings and then left her once again to meet with Ser Barristan Selmy, the turncloack, by the gates to confirm the terms had been accepted.

Cersei thanked Jaime for his good service and turned her attentions to the pyromancer she had at her study. There was enough wildfire, the man said, to destroy tot only he Dragon Queen armies but also her beasts.

“ It will be difficult, to shoot them as they fly...but your men are nothing but capable, Your Grace.”

Not that Cersei cared much about the soldiers, but their surviving a gruesome attack had raised her standing among her loyal subjects.

They had no idea how far their queen was willing to go to honour their trust in her.

“ We should not fall before the Dragon Whore and her hordes---we should not fall.”

***  
Since Cersei demanded her deadline to be respected, Jaime did not have enough time to run a more thorough search of the Dragonpit. However, he pretended otherwise, unwilling to incur Cersei´s rage.

and , if he was being truly honest, he did not care anymore- at least, not as he had cared before- if they were to live or die.

_If this is the end, so be it._

Fatalism had never suited a Lannister, but fighting until the last standing was a notion Jaime could understand.

It was brave- stupid, but brave

And he would rather die a brave man than to live like a stupid one.

***

One look at his little brother and Jaime´s stomach turned. 

Jaime had grown to intensely dislike Tyrion in the months they had been apart. His brother had taken their father away, had tried to kill his love for Cersei as a revenge and had been the cause of Myrcella dying in Dorne.

Jaime would not forgive Tyrion for anything- he wanted him dead.

“As you see, I agreed to your terms.” Jaime recognized Rhaella in her features, but there was strength where it had been meekness.

“ You wrote that a criminal should be judged by the Laws of the land he has broken and by the people he has offended. We agree to that and we think you should honour your own words by agreeing to an exchange of prisoners.”

Jaime, she said, was a criminal too. He had broken the Law by attacking Lord Stark on the streets and failed to keep his vows when he did not protect the Stark girls as he had been supposed to.

The North demanded Jaime to be delivered into Daenerys Targaryen custody.

And, before Cersei could argue against it, Jaime realized why the Targaryen girl had insisted on the dragonpit and regretted ever having approved of the meeting without observing the proper safeguards. 

They would not simply die. They would be slaughtered.

Surrounded by archers, hidden in several locations above their heads, wearing strange clothes that mimicked the surroundings, making it difficult to see them…

One move and the arrows would rain on them.

“ You know I will not agree with this exchange...you give me Tyrion, as you said you would, and we will execute him. I gave orders to---”

“Your ordered your pyromancer to burn the city while you sailed away?”

Two of Daenerys eunuchs brought over the little man Cersei had granted a place at her Small Council. The pyromancer did not look like he had offered much resistance and Jaime wondered if the Guild had ever been loyal to their patron in the first place.

“When you lost both Your Hand and your pet guard, you did not realize you had also lost pyromancers, armorers, soldiers... ”

“ We will fight ... _we will fight.”_ Cersei spat. He noticed the guards preparing themselves to strike some damage- if they were to die, they plan on taking some of Daenerys men down.

 _Fools_. Well trained as they were, the Lannister guards had failed to notice they were surrounded.

It was fast. Very fast. They did not suffer much. Jaime heard a whistle, then felt a wind and saw bodies dropping on the floor. Multiple shots at their eyes and hands, their screams dying on their throats as they fell.

“Is this how you engage in Diplomacy, you whore!”

Daenerys laughed. Loudly, heartily, disdainfully. “ The woman whose solution to her problems was to kill all her enemies at once, after luring them into a trap, is trying to teach me about diplomacy? Really?”

“I only extend diplomacy to those I recognize as legitimate leaders. While I do respect you, Cersei, for surviving this long, I care little for an outdated code of honour that would only hinder me. Now, about the prisioners...

 _“Go.”_ Cersei told Jaime bluntly. “ Go to her. We must avenge Father. The least we could do.”

Daenerys jerked her head and two unsullied came forward to drag Jaime over. 

_Avenging father´s death...will we, sweet sister ? do you still believe that?_

***

The little devil came forward and handed her a parchment.

_" I am what you are no more._

_Younger, more beautiful…”_

Cersei looked at the Dragon Whore, horrified.

_Younger, more beautiful._

Daenerys shined as bright as her brother had. Brighter even- she had her whole life ahead of her, while Cersei...

Cersei looked around...the dead bodies at her feet. Jaime by Daenerys side…

Even the city- _her city_ \- far away…

Daenerys had taken all that Cersei held dear.

And now, all she had was Tyrion…

Her little brother.

_ít is him... has always been him…_

***

Jaime ran by her side the moment she fell.

“It was not my fault...she lunged at me!” Tyrion screamed as he watched blood spurting out of Cersei´s neck, the arrow lodged on her throat.

 _No, no….this cannot be._ Cersei had tried...she had tried to make Tyrion pay...but the archers were faster. One moment, she was over Tyrion´s throat and the next…

Jaime tried to put pressure on the neck, Cersei´s head resting on his lap...but she was gone.

Cersei was gone.

  
  
  
  
  



	9. The Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dead Come and with them...many revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fasten your seatbelts- it will be a bumpy ride.
> 
> as always, no betas...the typos and mistakes are my own.

Daenerys flew as high and as fast as Drogon allowed her, but not as efficiently as she would have hoped. Spending extended periods of time on dragonback on her current condition was not as pleasurable as it had been before and she wished for nothing more than the comforts of a bed.

Pregnancy aside, Daenerys only dared to make this trip because King's Landing had been stabilized and was on good hands. Ser Barristan Selmy´s fame in the south was something legendary and his unwavering support of Daenerys Targaryen had made things go smoothly even as she entered a devastated city filled with people whose loyalties lied not with her,

_ At least, not yet. _

Deals were made. Trials were held. Executions were carried. Daenerys had performed all the unpleasurable tasks of rulership swiftly and mercifully, second chances being offered only once before the sword swung…

After the initial trepid reception, once people realized the war was finally over, they moved on. The rebuilding started, there was work for everyone- and food too. Daily shipments of grain kept coming from The Reach and as the days went by, families reunited and friends spoke to each other, it became clear that under the Dragon Queen the city dwellers of King's Landing would not only survive but thrive.

There was a lot to be done. Daenerys had brought designs from Volantis, blueprints for a future Valyrian settlement that would have been built on the way to Mantarys if it had not been for the Doom.

“This will be the basis for a new King's Landing.” The engineers from the Citadel worked day and night to adapt the plans for the capital. Daenerys urged them to think higher, determining they could always improve on the existing technology while implementing the innovative systems for the city, among them, her version of the metric system: 

“ You will use the new measurements for this endeavor, working on a scale for the designs you make. “ Daenerys presented them with the slice of silk she had taken from Volantis on the day of her departure. “This will cheapen the costs of production. Everything will have a standard in terms of size and weight to be followed from now on. “

Daenerys went on to explain the system would be based on decimal ratios, with prefixes for multiples and submultiples, all adopting a structure with a basic unit at its center. “ This silk has been divided into a hundred equal parts. You will all receive tapes and rulers with the measurements. As for how we are to measure heaviness, a single green pea is the basis, and I had a smith already forging the weight of its multiples in steel.”

Excited as she was for this new project, Daenerys' hand was forced by the true enemy: when she woke up to find a thin layer of frost resting on her bedspread, she knew she needed to go.

_ Winter is here,  _ a voice told her- a voice she knew all too well _.  _

***

Ser Barristan was against.

“ You should not place yourself in such a danger, Your Grace.  _ Stay _ . Send  _ more  _ reinforcements. Surely, they will need more than a bunch of battered and tired westerlanders there...” 

Although the bulk of their army, comprised of conscripted miners and small farmers, had been sent home to their families, many of the knighted elites of the Westerlands, those not found guilty of unnecessary violence- a concept hard to grasp in Westeros- had been sent The Wall by ships, except for one man: 

“ Ser Jaime is to go overland, in the company of all the Knights willing to sacrifice their lives in the fight against our greatest enemy- enough eyes on him as to prevent any attempt at evading his northern trial,” Daenerys said back then, not minding that Brienne of Tarth was among the knights to go. Not only did she trust the stormlander to deliver Ser Jaime alive and intact into House Stark´s custody, but she also reminded herself that, with both Brienne and Jaime at Winterfell, Ice would have, albeit in an imperfect way, returned home to its owners. 

And no, the Jon Daenerys knew would not magically forget the Lannisters had taken the ancestral sword of House Stark as if they had any right to it as if valyrian steel was an ordinary metal, not the rarest of commodities in this world...

Still uncomfortable with the thought of Daenerys making the trip at all, Ser Barristan, perfectly aware how his suggestion would be received, said it anyway

: “ If you really must send someone, Your Grace, then Missandei cou---…”

“No _. _ “ _ Missandei and Viserion stay south. They are not to leave south.They are never going North. _

“This is too important to be ignored, Ser Barristan, and I am the only one who truly can help them. The enemy is fast but not as fast as a dragon. Take heart- I will come back, my friend”

Ser Barristan did not insist- he knew it would be for naught. “ Very well, Your Grace. Then, you need to get going…”

Daenerys flew that same morning.

***

Daenerys took care to make stops along the way, knowing once she crossed the border she would have to press forward and make as much time as possible in order to avoid getting stuck on a snowstorm- or worse.

She spent one hour at Castle Darry, enough to have a bite, make water and allow Drogon a quick rest- and a full cow to munch on. Daenerys had legitimized the present Lord, Jonothor, a bastard cousin of the late heir who had been found imprisoned at Harrenhal, confirmed his inheritance, and had him married off to Lady Marissa Frey, whose mother was a Darry by birth. This had been done to avoid any disputes in the future, as the Freys had been decimated, yes, but she would not go as far as to kill all their descendants.

Her qualms about political marriages aside, it was the reality of the ruling class and it did prevent many problems from arising. Jonothor agreed to take in as many surviving children named Frey as he could, the rest going to the Crownlands where Olyvar Frey, the loyal and good squire to the slain King Robb, had succeeded as the heir of his old uncle, whose name he took.

Her last stop had been at the Twins, where she spent the night. Daenerys had granted the Keep to one of Ser Barristan´s squires, Tumco Lho, rewarding the former slave for his role in saving the old knight´s life at Meereen. As the Riverlands were the most affected by the war, and due to a serious shortage of bachelors, Daenerys reasoned she could offer lands to some of the loyal members of her essosi army there, as long as she kept the surviving native Lords happy and married her own to their daughters- in this case, the honor went to Lady Walda Frey, the fair ( as opposed to her cousin, called the fat ) who was actually quite smart, advising her husband to take the name of the place he was born in as their House and sigil, as Basilisk was something a westerosi would recognize.

After a much-needed rest, Daenerys departed on first light, arriving at Winterfell later that evening.

***

Aurane raised an eyebrow to Jon as soon as his cousin left the room.

_ “I know _ .” an exasperated Jon said lightly. “ She still acts as if she is a princess.”

The corsair offered Jon a half smile. “ Could hardly blame her for trying this hard. The girl went south to be a Queen but returned North as a princess. Sansa Stark does not strike me as a woman who would gladly part with her privileges and accept another demotion without any strife..” 

No, Jon could not say so. Aurane was right. 

“ Sansa was raised to expect only the best and, while her experiences since leaving Winterfell were unpleasant, she hold on to the lessons her mother taught her- I would be a fool to expect her not to complain.”

Despite sharing the stigma of bastardy, Aurane and Jon were not cut from the same cloth. Aurane knew his rival to be a brave, loyal, dependable man, one whose words might be curt at times, but never untrue. He could also attest to the strengthening of Jon´s leadership skills: Jon gave an order, and his men followed it to the letter.

But not with Sansa... it was mystifying for Aurane to see the former King in the North avoiding confrontation this badly, all as to not disturb the fantasies of a pampered cunt.

“Leaving her to play house in this huge castle for too long will only make things more difficult in the end.” 

“ I know it is a risk.” Jon replied, already wishing the conversation to take another turn. “ But mayhaps she will grow tired and leave on her own…”

Aurane let out a loud laugh. “ This is probably the first time in her life she tasted Powe on her own terms. Do you really think she would give  _ this _ up?” 

Before Jon could answer, just by looking at his fearful expression Aurane had finally noticed something he had overlooked.” Women and their reactions- it scares you, yes? That is why you are always running in circles and away from them...your cousin...your paramour…”

“ _ Former _ paramour.” Jon was quick to correct him. “ I am a married man.”

“ I know. So was my father. Always in the middle, between my mother and his wife. Could not please one, but did not want to displease the other- they were all very unhappy in the end.”

“  _ You, _ ” Jon said darkly, “ are the last man I should be discussing my failings with women.”

One of Jon´s guards knocked on the door to inform him the master at arms was waiting at the training grounds. Without a word, both men started walking outside. They needed to blow off some steam...training always helped.

It had become part of their routine, to meet after breaking their fasts and go for a round of sparring. It had started as soon as Daenerys left for the south, with Aurane also noticing that Sansa´s visits to Jon´s quarters had too become more frequent.

The girl was far from subtle. 

“Well, I suppose it is understandable I speak about this.” Aurane said as they moved accord corridors, with Jon´s replying with a snort. “ I mean, there are not that many things to do here…”

“My private life should not be an amusement to you…”

Had Aurane been in Jon´s shoes, he would have agreed- but he was not. “ Turns out that waiting for the world to end is a bore...I just wish something would happen, other than freezing my butt an---”

“It  _ has _ happened. “ A low voice behind them said, interrupting Aurane. “ Your wish has come true.”

They both halted. 

“ Brandon?” 

Jon would have admonished his cousin for such a fright, but he felt this was important.

“Do you mean...?”

_ “Yes.”  _

_ *** _

If much of his Powers had been put in question due to his less than helpful assistance, Brandon had fully regained control over ravens since Daenerys had departed. He hoped this was a good sign, that soon his third eye would be reawakened but…

He could play as if...it had been through the ravens the Lord Commander had sent from the wall that Brandon was able to alert Jon of the fact six hours before the birds finally flew in the rookery.

There was a lot going on without Brandon´s knowledge in the castle, his vision, especially when it concerned Jon, still obstructed.

When Jon was officially informed by the Maester of Edd´s message, he had already spoken to Qaith, being reassured the upcoming attack was not only to be expected but welcomed in a strange way.

_ “ T´was like she said...they froze the salt waters,...the men at the wall had just survived an attack and thought it was all over. But they had only been a distraction- the enemy crossed.” _

_ Since the bulk of their troops gathered beyond the wall were coming from the northeast waters, Keeps like Last Hearth and Karhold had been able to survive the attacks from smaller forces by barricading inside the crypts, where the dead had already been burned and disposed of.  _

_ Still, the white walkers had been successful in enlisting the fallen soldiers who sacrificed themselves sothat their families could be evacuated.  _

_ “Soon, the Stormborn will return. I sent her a sign. She will understand. She has a role to play- and so do you. “ _

_ Jon would have protested, but their plan had been a constant since the day they first discussed- he knew that, if she was not to do what she was supposed to, his son or daughter would not be born. _

_ “She must come at once. We have three, four days until they come.” _

_ “And we will hold them, Lord Snow...they will be exactly where we need them to be.” _

_ *** _

Daenerys landed outside Winterfell´s main gate and was escorted inside by two of her Unsullied stationed at the castle. Once in the courtyard, she was greeted by Aurane, who was halfheartedly making conversation with some dour looking northerman.

“You came at the right time...or at the wrong time, I am not sure. How are you?”

The gruesome flight, with winds as sharp as to make paper cuts on exposed skin, had almost placed Daenerys on the edge. Anxious as she was, speaking to Aurane had somewhat lifted her spirits, a reminder of what she had already accomplished.

“I am fine, Aurane- should we go inside?” 

As they walked towards the main building, Daenerys remembered she had brought him something. “ Here.” she said, handing him a rolled parchment she had in her pocket. “ I flew to Driftmark and met with Lady Allyria. She is personally handling the renovations at High Tide and seems to be in good health. “

The news obviously pleased Aurane, who gave Daenerys a large, honest smile. “ Good to hear. I was afraid the gold I brought would not be enough to start…”

It was...but barely. “ I took the liberty of doubling the amount. I hope you don´t mind, Aurane, but it is only fair: you are in my employ and had to change plans to bring Qaith to me. There is no way of telling how much more you would have made, but after the war, in case you need more---”

“Thank you for your generous payment, Your Grace, but once we win the fight, it is my intention to just wait for the birth of the babe and return to the seas.”

He did not sound exactly mad at Daenery's gesture but was clearly far from pleased. She knew better than to dissuade Aurane from leaving a second time. Not only were they not married to each other, but she also respected his wish for independence, and completely understood his passion for seafaring.

They made it to Jon´s study in no time. Visibly tired, Aurane assisted Daenerys in sitting at a comfortable chair. 

“ Thank you.”

Not to be outdone, Jon was quick to pour a glass of water to Daenerys, gently asking her if she had a need for warm food. 

“ I can call in Irri immediately if you will, but here---” Jon said as he grabbed a bowl with a couple of apples and a pear and offered it to her. “ You must be starving.”

“Yes.” Aurane added a concerned tone. “ you should eat.”

Daenerys giggled. _ Two handsome men vying for my attentions- am I in heaven? _

Was she wrong in wanting this never to end? Being always in control was tiring and sometimes, Daenerys wanted nothing more than to be cared for, protected…

_ Well, but it would be selfish. Aurane has his life...Jon has his responsibilities.  _

Taking a bite from the apple under the attentive gaze of both men proved to be an almost...sexual experience to her. 

Daenerys felt her face urn redder _ … _ suddenly, she was hot.

_ Mmmm _ . She blinked. Their smell...so masculine...vibrant...strong... 

_ Would they both hold me at the same time? Kiss me? _

Mayhaps the solution for all her problems had been right in front of her.

They called her Aegon with tits, right?

A threesome...might be a good idea?

_ No, they call it a polyamorous realtionship nowardays.  _

Daenerys could not help but to grin - the images her head was conjuring were simply very... _ inspiring. _

But they were just that. Fantasies. Daydreaming. Self-assured and sexually liberated she might be, but Daenerys doubted she could roll herself like a pretzel to satisfy the very virile men in her life at any given moment- they would always want what she only sometimes could give. 

_ Who am I kidding? I can barely with one of them… _

_ *** _

“Daenerys…” Jon had been calling her name for some time now and he was getting worried. “  _ Dany _ …”

When she finally heard her name, Daenerys let a single “ Oh” before devouring the apple Jon had given her

“ Do you think she was having a vision?” Aurane asked Jon in a low voice. “ She was just staring at nothing like her head was somewhere else.”

Jon could not exclude this possibility. He had taken to reading the History of his House. There had been Targaryens blessed with the Sight before, the most famous being Daenys the dreamer, and surely they could use the help of a reliable, trustworthy seer in such troubling times…

“Dany...did you just have a vision? You seemed out of sorts…” Jon asked, almost too eager for the answer.

Daenerys gave him a confused look. “ A vision?”  _ Well, you can definitely call it this way. _ “ No, I did not have a vision...I am very tired...my head is just playing tricks.”

This much was true. Daenerys  _ was _ tired- how could she not be? Between incessantly working on her “ innovations”, flying around the continent to negotiate in person with the all-powerful Lords and Ladies of Westeros, engaging in warfare and trying to be one step ahead of Sansa and Brandon, the opportunities for a much needed rest were hard to come by.

Pregnancy hormones notwithstanding, maybe her propensity to daydreaming had also to do with her overwhelming schedule and creative nature.

She just needed to calm down.

_ A good night of sleep will clear my head of these impure thoughts...or maybe not...maybe it will only give me a window to go and masturbate in peace...  _

Peace? What peace, Daenerys asked herself. How could there be peace with the looming threat of the White Walkers? Even before making their unwanted appearance, mankind´s magical enemies had proved to be quite the party poopers- the stories about the first Long Night were truly horrifying. 

_ These Ice Fuckers are really spoiling everything, aren't they? _

Not only was the world´s fate at stake in the fight, but also Daenerys mental health it seems- another month of going on without, and she would explode.

_ Well, then _ . 

“We will only know rest once the bothersome Army of the Dead is defeated- I suggest we do it by week's end.“

Jon, having met the enemy before, doubted it would be that easy, and said so.

Daenerys reiterated she was not making light of the situation. “ Sacrifices will be made and the price will be high. I am merely saying we should take a more active approach now that we know they are coming. The plan has two parts, remember?”

Jon did.

“Then you should rest while you can.”

***

Daenerys slept a deep, dreamless sleep, waking up by first light, Irri bringing her a tray with flat bread, porridge and honeyed milk.

“Thank you, Irri- I apologise, but it seems we will not have much time to talk.”

Irri nodded. “ I know, Khaleesi. You told me about the plan.”

It was only fair. Not only was Irri more than a maidservant to Daenerys, but she also had long ears and a knack for finding things on her own- and speaking of said talent.

“ So, how did you spend your time here, Irri? Do you have any news?”

“The men were restless...we roasted another horse. The red-haired one called us savages- she is making eyes on your wolf.”

The last bit made Daenerys almost spill her drink. 

“ Well...she is welcome to try. “ Daenerys had no time for this. She knew her worth. The memories were there- she had learned from them. If Jon would ever consider it, she would not be the one crying. 

Earlier, Jon had spoken about Samwell´s reaction to his refusal in breaking their supposed betrothal. It gave her more reason not to reveal the truth to their whole family as they both agreed his friend´s distaste was obviously shared by his cousin, with whom the reachman had become close to.

“I suppose she does not consider it wrong when the Starks do it.” and by that, Daenerys was not considering the fact Sansa and Jon were cousins. She was actually thinking about their own family tree- Daenerys is Jon's aunt and House Stark had married niece to uncle before. 

“  _ typical _ .”

After breaking her fast, Daenerys' next meeting was with Jon, Ser Jorah and Lady Maege Mormont. 

Had things been different, Daenerys would have waited until their coronation to make this gesture, but since Valyrian Steel was not only the rarest of metals but the only one capable of killing white walkers upon touch, she could no longer wait. 

“ Lady Mormont, as you might have noticed, your nephew, Ser Jorah, is a member of my household and I have commanded him to remain in the North until the fight is over. I would like to tell you that I mean no disrespect by that. I am merely allowing the man who has served me so well in all these years the chance to make amends for past mistakes.”

“ _ Crimes _ …” Maege Mormont said tersely. “ not merely mistakes, Your Grace. “

“You are of course right, Lady Mormont. I also want to reiterate I fully recognize Ser Jorah does not have any rights to Bear Island. It is my hope, however, that he shows value during the fight and that you come to accept him again as a member of your Noble House.”

“ This we will see, Your Grace.”

_ Well, she at least managed not to sound insulted and is willing to consider it.  _ Daenerys did not know exactly what to do with Jorah in the future, but she wanted to open as many doors as possible. 

“ Lady Mormont, my betrothed, Jon of House Stark, and I have called you and your nephew here today to return House Mormont´s ancestral sword, Longclaw, to your hands.”

This both pleased and shocked Lady Mormont. 

“ Your Grace...I thank you for this kindness. However, my brother has gifted the sword…”

“Lady Mormont, the gift was not only well-received, but well used. “ and how, John mused. The sword had saved his life multiple times. It had become a part of him, an extension of his arm…

But House Mormont deserved all the honors he could bestow on them. Their men had died to retake Winterfell. Their Lady had lost a daughter at the Twins…

It was only fair. 

“Blackfyre has returned to its rightful owner, Lady Mormont- my King Consort will be yielding the famed blade in the future, as I am myself not well versed in the art…”

“Oh...then, in this case, House Mormont is more than happy in accepting the sword, Your Grace.” 

Lady Mormont, suddenly amused, glanced at Jorah, who had yet to utter a word. 

“ I suppose, Your Grace, you would like me to allow your northern guard to borrow Longclaw for the duration of the conflict, yes?”

And indeed, it was what Daenerys had in mind. “ You are free to refuse, my Lady Mormont. I am told you are a warrior yourself and I would not dream in depriving you of ways to defend yourself from such rabid enemies.”

But Maege waived these concerns away. “ I am more inclined towards spiked maces myself and , while he brought much dishonor to our House, ” then, looking deep into Jorah´s eyes, Lady Maege ” Jorah is.. _.still _ ...my brother´s son.”

***

Before departing to her mission, Daenerys insisted in attending the last war council, more than slightly curious about the Stark´s next moves.

And since she had only recognized a couple of faces among the southern Knights that had arrived to join the fight, among them Brienne and Gendry, Daenerys was also eager to know the fate of a certain one-handed Lannister.

“I believe I sent Ser Jaime this way…” 

“...to be trialed.” Jon added as they walked. “which he was.”

_ Mmm _ . “ Guilty?”

“Naturally.” Confused by the question, Jon asked. “ were you expecting something different? If so, you should ha--”

“No, no…” she said, shaking her head “ Your word is final. I am just asking because you did not tell me how it went...and about the sword…”

Apparently, the trial was a fast one. They did not even allow the poor sausage to have a proper last meal: northerners wanted him dead and Jon did not care much about Jaime one way or the other. The Lannister had not only killed Jory Cassel, a man deepíly respected and loved by all, but also harmed Eddard Stark on an ambush.

The trial had taken placed the day before Daenerys arrived. Jon noted that Lady Brienne of Tarth had spoken on Ser Jaime´s behalf, but only after being prompted by Sansa, who was willing to place the knight on the forefront of the fight as penitence. 

“The Lords were getting anxious. House Cassel looked displeased; they were not the only ones. Before anyone could say something more damaging and definitive, I asked for a recess. Sansa´s show or mercy might have been better accepted in another hall, but not on this one. She went about her day, the trial progressed at closed doors, I took the sword out of his hands and, before nightfall, I burnt him.”

Daenerys was gobsmacked. 

Jon...Jon Snow...Jon  _ fucking _ Snow had  _ burnt _ Jaime Lannister.

“You burnt him?”

“ Rhaegal did. Why give the Lannister partially responsible for all the misery The North has lived in the last years a northern execution? The Lords agreed with me. Ser Jaime had served House Targaryen as a Kingsguard and he had betrayed House Targaryen as a Kingsguard. Those were his greatest accomplishments, the things people will remember him by- a Targaryen execution was befitting.”

Daenerys could not fault Jon, but she felt that, perhaps, he would have been more inclined to send Jaime to The Wall if his bond with Rhaegal had not become so strong. Using fire as a weapon came naturally to Targaryens. They knew, almost by instinct, how to make execution by fire painless…and how to make it horrible.

Daenerys did not dare ask which way Jon went, but he too had a question for her. 

“King´s Landing is yours, yes? “

“ _ Ours _ .” she corrected. 

Jon smiled. 

“About Samwell´s father…”

“ A traitor.” Daenerys replied.

_ And a bully and waste of space and oxygen.  _ “ I had the son of Lord Hightower execute him by the sword. The boy wanted to die too, I could see it...and that is why I did not ask. I sent him to the Wall, as you suggested.”

***

Sansa and Brandon Stark arrived together, the last ones to do so. 

But the reasons for their tardiness were different : Sansa, because she reasoned the meeting would only be a review of what had already been agreed upon and took a long bath and Brandon because he had be left waiting for his sister to wheel him in.

They took their seats by the window, surrounded by friendly people like Lord Royce and Samwell Tarly. Arya, on the other hand, sat by Jon´s right side, Daenerys Targaryen, who had just returned for her trip, n his left.

Having grown accustomed to the absence of the so-called Queen, Sansa was not exactly pleased with her attendance, but this was something she had expected, seeing that the Targaryen had returned. 

Tyrion´s absence, however, was  _ not  _ expected.

Should she worry?

_ No, Tyrion is a smart man. He listened. _

The meeting dragged on. Sansa paid attention to everything that was being said, but did not participate. In fact, she remained silent for the most part, even when Samwell made the case for Brandon´s protection, saying something about the loss of common memory being the same as the death of mankind.

Sansa finally smiled when they agreed to have Brandon at the godswood, surrounded by loyal and trustworthy men, and her at the crypts, where the women and children would stay.

They would win the war, she just knew.

***

Arya Stark had been one of the reasons for Gendry Waters to come north, and he did not lose time in finding her.

“Arya! “ he shouted in the middle of the training grounds, having recognized her from the distance.

She looked good- grown, healthy-  _ alive _ . 

“ I am glad you survived” 

Arya sheathed her sword -  _ valyria nsteel,  _ Gendry marveled - and huffed. “Not with your help, remember? You wanted to be a knight…”

Gendry´s smile waned. Had he been too optimistic in thinking all would be forgotten? They were about to fight an Army of White Walkers- the past should remain in the past.

And yet, it always came to bite him in the butt.

“ For that, I am truly sorry, Arya. I should have not let you go...I was not thinking straight. Please, forgive me.”

Arya sighed. Even good people made mistakes. Her father and mother were proof of that. But they did not live long enough to suffer the consequences of their acts- their children were the ones paying the price...

Nevertheless, they had survived. And he had come to Winterfell, to fight in the war- this should be worthy of something.

And it was. “You came all this way to defend my home, the least I can do is to give you a second chance, Gendry

Arya joined him at the common tables, where she preferred to be seated, him pouring her some ale. 

“ You are a knight!” she exclaimed.

“Aye...the brotherhood made me one. My cousin mentioned I would need another ceremony to earn the title of Ser...she does not think too highly of the Lord of Light.”

Arya shared the same sentiment but said nothing. “ I heard that Lady Baratheon was almost killed by his followers- you should not blame her for being suspicious..”

“No, I do not blame her at all.” Gendry replied gently . “ She is a fine child, the Shireen. Offered me a place in her household and all, the little lady that she is. I was inclined to accept it, but since many of their men were coming North to fight for Winterfell, I decided to join them in hopes of finding you., and I am glad I did.”

Arya too was glad.

***

The middle-aged woman did not have the courtesy to knock before entering the room, despite the client paying in advance for the full hour. 

“The guards are waiting by the door. They say we should all go inside the walls now, my Lord. “ She said as a way of apologizing for the interruption.” Your little party is over, I am afraid.”

Normally, the old man would have protested- he had paid the full price after all- but there was nothing normal about his current situation.

And by the morrow, the gold he carried in his pouch would have no use for him.

“Aye. You are right: good things must  _ always _ come to an end.” 

He then playfully slapped the buttocks of his companion as the woman stood up to search for her clothes. “ You were only wrong in one thing, my dear: I am no Lord. “

“Of course you are not.” The woman then pointed to the chain around his neck. “ You might have forgotten your grey robes, but the links are hard to miss.”

“Well, “ he said, amused by his own sloppiness. “ you are a smart one- and the teacher in me believes in rewarding good pupils.” 

He then extended his arm to the brothel´s owner, offering her his pouch. “ Here- take it. All I ask is that you buy yourself and your girls some fine silk and that you offer a round of ale in my name when you reopen your fine establishment.”

The woman smiled gingerly. “ and what is your name, my Lord?”

“Marwyn.” 

***

Through the cold, white clouds of winter, she flew. For hours, yes, but it seemed to her it had been days, weeks even. 

Her body was sore; her breathing, difficult. 

But the dragon´s thick skin was still warm on her touch, his fire keeping her from freezing at such low temperatures.

Drogon was focused, sure of himself, like he knew where they were going to.

And perhaps he did.

She was not guiding him, but the other way around. She might as well be blind, keeping her eyes open while the frozen particles of water, as sharp as daggers, hit her face, was impossible.

And they kept coming and hurting her fine skin like thorns. 

She had no choice but to raise her scarf up, completely covering her eyes.

Then, the music started. A strange and constant noise. The sound of Dragon wings flapping against the storm, a rhythm like no other. It reverberated through her body, she almost succumbing to vertigo- if it were not for the saddle, she might have found hard to hold herself tight in place, maybe even...

She adjusted herself the best she could, but it kept getting worse and worse until she begged it to stop.

And then...it did.

And then...she saw it. 

***

Daenerys unfolded her eyes.

_ “You will know when you see it, and you will see it clearly, like a beacon of light in the darkness.” _

Two moons.

***

They had been fighting for over twelve hours, the fires burning on the pits, courtesy of his dragon, whose energy was unmatched by his rider, nearing his breaking point

_ “How do I know when I should stop fighting, when I should come to you?” he asked the masked woman. _

_ “Oh, Lord Snow, ...you will know.” _

_ *** _

Daenerys landed on their shores, the white sands already warm from the rising Sun.

_ I must have flown for over twelve hours. _

The isle of faces, the only place in the whole Westeros where Summer never ended.

The white weirwood shone. Large, as tall as a tall building. Qaith was right- it was something impossible to miss. Even in a forest of large, impossibly old weirwoods, the white tree stood up, more magical, more beautiful, atop a mound of green grass that danced with the warm breezes.

Daenerys halted for a second, to look at the tree. It was horrible: the face, it was not carved. It was real- the wood was human skin, the noose breathed in the air and the thin mouth had even teeth.

The tree was a living being, an ancient one at that.

Daenerys would do well in not lose time.

She retrieved the blade from her leather belt. The dragonglass dagger, imbued with the power of her and Jon´s blood. It had changed its colour, now a vivid red with orange hues, live fresh lava from a volcano.

Daenerys stabbed the three. Only once. She knew more was not needed.

She had gone for the jugular. 

The tree screeched, cried, howled. 

The terrain underneath it started shacking.

Daenerys fled to the shores. The three had been split in half, a large ray of cold, blue light shooting to the stars from its middle, hitting the second moon above in a soundless explosion.

The rain that came was pure stardust.

“What have you done?” the creature screamed .” You destroyed  _ us! _ ”

Looking around, Daenerys saw that many trees had little doors. The children of the forest that escaped to the beach obviously lived inside the trees, like some sort of rustic, catlike hobbits.

“No, I did not. I saved you all. Look” she said pointing at the lava reaching the waters. “ When the fires stop burning, your nation will gain more land. Fertile land, land that will soon be filled with healthier, generous trees. No need to sacrifice your children anymore.”

The teeth, Daenerys had noted when she peeked at the tree, had pieces of flesh in between. Old Gods were cruel Gods, Lord Roose used to say. He was half right. They were nature, and nature simply is. Unforgiving at times, giving at times, but demanding. Their Gods give, but they also take.

The Children had Magic, but not cunning. To create the white walkers and prevent mankind from obliterating them, their greenseers had made a pact, and the price was too high. 

The trees amplified their Magic, creating a kingdom that normal men could not reach. A reality within a reality. 

They had stolen the Moon from the world, and replaced it with a fake one. The counterfatured satellite was the main cause of the strange seasonal cycle. Their imprisonment of the real moon in their own little domain had granted their Magic the ability to keep mankind at bay, but they had to feed the three with their own flesh and blood, lest the Moon would break free. 

Their numbers, already low, dwindled even more.

“We must fly to the other side of the island; you should come with me if you don't want to die in the fires.”

***

“You must go-  _ now _ !”

Jon nodded to Aurane and started running. The blond man continued to lead the archers as the fires burned even brighter. The sky had cleared; they could see the moon like they had never seen before, like it was so close they could touch it with the tips of their fingers if they stood on their toes.

It was beautiful. The colorful lights dancing with the full, red moon. But it had been terrifying when they had heard a crack: Then a scream of such anger, pain, hurt, a thousand times louder than all their voices combined.

For a second, Jon thought it was the end- their end- only to see, with his own eyes, as the skies cleared, the moon came through and the storms ran away.

“ _...you will know...you will know” _

***

Qaith was waiting for Jon at the entrance of the Godswood. 

“ What lies ahead is not for your eyes to see, Lord Snow. You must take a leap of faith, and walk in blindly.”

She covered his eyes tightly with red silk, and did not offer him any other assistance than the sound of her voice. 

“ To go back, you must go forward. We shall begin right here, right now. There will be jumps. First, through space. You will walk and every step you make will be a full day's walk. You will arrive at your first stop. It is a portal. You will enter it. Do not look back. If you look back, you are lost.”

_ “Remember; thousands will die. Many you will kill yourself. But their lives, their blood, their sacrifice...they will give you the tools to save the world. If you allow yourself to feel their pain and to despair, their sacrifices will be in vain. You must always move forward and do not question what you must do. Your heart will guide you.” _

Qaith warned Jon his body would fight back against the ritual. 

“ A normal reaction. I will draw much of your blood out. It will feel like dying, and your instinct is to fight. But do not. Control it. Deliver yourself to the fade. You will return. At the end, there will be a path back and someone standing by the door. Only one chance. You shall pass the test. Never look back. If you do, you are lost.”

They walked in silence and then, she stopped. Jon did not need to know why because he knew where they were. 

The weirwood tree. The ice cold pond.

Only then, Qaith touched Jon, helping him lay down, his arms spread open. She sliced one wrist; Jon felt as his blood started running, mixing with the holy soil. 

“ You will die once again, and return. Less than before, but still you. You will see your children there. Cherish them, even before meeting them, for they will be the only children of your blood. Once you return, your seed is no more. One of the many sacrifices you will make today.”

“If I am to die, to protect them, I will do gladly,” Jon said as he started to feel himself wane. 

“Yes, I know. You are a good man, You will protect your family. You will save your family. But giving your life away to do so is not be a hard thing. You would do this gladly, anyway. No, Lord Snow- what will be asked of you is much harder. Terrible, even. But you will do it. I know you will. Because you will see your true mission. The reason why you have been brought back. You will only be allowed to rest once your mission is ended. Only then, your heart will stop, and your eyes will be closed forever.”

Noticing that Jon was about to leave, Qaith removed her starlight mask and whispered in his ear. 

“ You will see a shadow following you. I will keep the shadow from reaching you. A portal will open, and you will enter. The shadow will follow you until you reach the end of your journey. Remember to look at the door. Remember to cross the door. Do not mind the one who stands by the door. Cross the door...cross the door….cross the door...do not look back”

***

Jon felt his spirit leaving his body and knew it was happening again. He felt the same thing that night at Castle Black. But Ghost had been there, to receive his soul as his body gave up.

Now , however, would not be the same. Jon welcomed the ordeal and allowed his spirit to wander, watching from out of his body as the fight progressed.

He saw Winterfell from the outside, lit like a funeral pyre. He saw Arya crying over the dead body of a fallen soldier. Jon´s heart broke for his sister. 

He saw Sansa, comfortably sitting at the crypts, with Samwell and Gilly by her side. 

They were safe; the dead would not rise, as Jon had burned their bones.

Of Brandon, Jon only saw a glimpse of the boy at the Godswood before entering his body again, this time, to go somewhere else. 

Rain drops on his forehead, their sound loud as a child´s scream. He counted them all.

Seven.

Then, it came the darkness, for how long, Jon could not say.

When he managed to open his eyes, his body felt like it had been walking for a long time.

But Jon knew. 

_ Seventy steps... Seventy days...Seventy months...seventy years….seventy-seven centuries _ ...

He had crossed the wall and beyond. A cave, destroyed. Covered in blood, bones and snow. A forgotten sword, the sister to the one he now had.

Jon did not linger; the shadow was coming closer.

He felt a tightening on his wrist, which was now fully healed. Then, he saw a ray of light at the end of the tunnel.

Without looking back, Jon crossed the other side.

***

“Farewell, my friend- your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

“You spoke to him? Told him not to regret it?”

Qaith nodded.

“Then do it, my friend. See you on the next side- if there is one.”

***

He saw himself as an older man, sitting on a chair and reading a book. The door opened, and two young women came in.

“Father!” the taller one said in a slightly disapproving tone. “ Reading the book again?Don´t you know the story already?”

Jon´s heart filled with joy.  _ “ Father.” His daughter. My daughter. _

He went closer as his older self stood up, leaving the opened book by the table, his eyes reading the passage carefully- over and over again.

_ Lord Aurane Waters, Master of Ships, a hero to millions of former slaves, did personally liberate hundreds of …. _

The man, his rival…

His friend.

His doubts evaporated the moment she spoke “ Beloved, “ Daenerys said with a gentle smile. “You must come. You are the only one who can calm Joanna down.”

_ Beloved _ , she called him. So far, their marriage had been a happy one. They were learning more and more about each other, their intimacies only deepened with time, their trust growing...

But she had never called him  _ beloved _ .

Jon liked the sound. He liked the feeling of warmth it had brought him...her smile, only for him.

He wanted that. He could have that, but only if…

He would be patient, he told himself.

He could be patient.

Could he do differently? How many paths could he take? Would it change anything? 

Was it even a choice?

_ And Joanna...my daughter...my beautiful northern daughter… _

***

The boy was stronger than she thought. The fight was hard, but in Magic, experience would always trump brute force. 

She had tied him as tightly as she could, but he would be catching up.

“He is about to cross.” 

Without hesitation, Qaith took off her clothes and submerged herself in the cold waters of the godswood´s pond.

_ *** _

The winds were cold, but the skies clear. 

There were men tied on trees. Jon counted seven. Children surrounded them. 

_ Here is where it all started...and where it will end. _

In the middle of a formation of rocks, it stood a tree. Taller, more beautiful than others- the source of their Power. 

Jon could not intervene. He watched as the men were turned into White Walkers. He had wanted to prevent this, but decided to follow the voice within him. They would create something else, something he did not know how to defeat, and their only chance would be gone.

_ Let them go, then destroy the tree. Only by destroying this tree, she will manage to destroy the other one.  _

“ A time loop” Daenerys said once the plan was fully explained. “ You can only go there if I destroy their source of Power here...and I can only destroy it if you go there…”

Jon saw as they left. He waited a beat or two before running to the tree, unsure if they could see him. Eventually, his hesitation was won over by the wind whispering in his ear _.  _

_ “ He is about to cross. “ _

Jon stabbed the tree twice.The first one with Blackfyre; the second, and last one, with Dark Sister. 

Jon felt the earth beneath his feet shaking. A rush of blue and red wind came and swept the rocks, rearranging them into a gatelike formation. 

The tree itself died a silent, painless death. Like it had expected it. Its branches flew around, covering the gate like a makeshift door- the door he needed to cross.

Jon saw the roots of the tree being sucked into a hole, and , from within, hundreds of faces emerged from, one of which Jon recognized.

_ Brandon. _

Brandon, his little brother, was the shadow. 

Here, in this time, Brandon´s legs were fully abled. He walked. And stood by the gate of rocks, by the door made of woods and leaves.

“ I was supposed to be King. The end, as intended, many moons ago. The union of nature and mankind. A kingdom with less people, under a King of thousands of faces, a King who would always be more. You would be happy. She would be happy. For a time. Far away. Before you would be forgotten by all, save for a book. I would be moving on and on...a different name….a different face...always me...always us. “

Brandon was the one standing by the door Jon had to cross.

“I am confused. The second one... was not supposed to be.”

Brandon was speaking about Joanna, Jon´s daughter, the one named after the man who sacrificed himself to create her.

That she should not exist.

_ You are not my brother.  _

In Brandon´s visions...according to his plans, the world would go on and be very different,

A world without Joanna Stark. 

Unborn- his daughter would be unborn.

It was clear Brandon preferred this way.

A part of himself would die today, he knew. It would die with Brandon, because he would be killing it.

Brandon stood not only on his way, but of the world Jon wanted to live on.

“ If you fear the Children will be gone, you are wrong. I do not know why your Powers diminished, and why you think you are the one deciding…”

“I am the memory of the world...I saw what is to become.”

Daenerys had laughed at Samwel´s statement about Brandon being History personified.

“ What is the purpose of storing knowledge if said knowledge is not to be shared? Masters and The Citadel might not teach everyone, but at least they share with some . If knowledge is not passed over, if it is only accessed by one, then it is not knowledge at all.”

Qaith was wrong- it was not difficult. Brandon was not Brandon anymore.

“If we are born with a predetermined map telling us which road we are to take, which bridge we are to cross, then we are not humans, but marionettes of the Gods. You, a God yourself, would obviously not like this to be challenged. But here I am. A man. I saw one future and now, I learned there is yet another one- one without my daughter.

“I made my choice.” 

Brandon gasped as Blackfyre broke his skin.

From his chest, a thousand ravens flew.

Jon did not look back.

***

Jon only understood the full extent of Qaith´s words once he returned to the godswood.

The body of Marwyn, hanging upside down, his slit throat, his blood still dropping, exactly right above Jon´s head- the seven drops, not of rain, but of blood.

Then, he saw Qaith, floating on the pound, her old, decrepit body, her skin blue from the cold waters she drowned herself in.

And Brandon... his chest burst open, tied to his wheelchair.

Around them, the trees were filled with ravens, all eyes on Jon.

“I made my choice.” 

***

It took them days to count the fallen and notify their families. As soon as their names were written down, however, they did not lose time- death and decay brought its own risks other than sour odour, and those bodies need to be burnt. 

They all met outside the walls where the dragons lit the greatest pyre they would ever see. Among the fallen, were many people of notice, like Ser Jorah, Daenerys guard, Mance Rayder, the King beyond the wall, and Gendry Waters, bastard of Robert Baratheon, the young man Jon saw Arya holding at the battle.

After that, it came the time to drink the dead. It was a solemn affair. Jon had much on his mind to even hear or say anything of note, so he let Daenerys do the honours.

She too, Jon knew, was tired, but at least nobody would take offense at a dutiful woman returning to her chambers after taking only a sip of her drink, while Jon, their Warden of the North, would not be allowed such luxury.

So he stayed for a full hour, shaking hands, drinking ale, mead and wine until he felt a numbing of his fingertips, even taking part in an impromptu dance, at Sansa´s insistence.

He would not have done that had she not asked. Jon took pity on Sansa. She had not been particularly easy to deal with, but she had loved Brandon, was fiercely devoted and protective of him.

The news of Brandon´s demise had really saddened Sansa, who forgot her courtesy armour for once, and cried bitterly.

Before he too bowed out of the celebration, Jon spent some time with Arya, consoling his sister the best he could, promising her they would soon fly to Skagos and meet Rickon again.

“ This will be good, yes.” she said lamely, but with honesty.

The walk to his chambers took three times as long. Many people wanted to exchange words with Jon- victory, even a bitter one like this, was victory still, and people were relieved.

They would never face the White Walkers again. Maesters were already saying the seasons had aligned, and that they would have all four seasons in the space of a full year!

Even in the midst of all the pain and suffering, people had real reasons to hope.

Jon was about to start undressing when he heard the door knocked.

It was Sansa.

***

“I know you don't love her---not really.” Sansa said as she came closer to Jon, grabbing his hand and holding it very tightly. “ You don't need to marry her now. She already helped us. We don't need her anymore. She can go south...her fate is there. You may go, if you want, but...you should return... _ to me _ .”

Was Sansa mad?

“ I married her already. She carries my children. Two. I have no intention of returning to you- or to ever see you again.”

The Vale, Jon said, was to be Sansa´s home. Or Riverrun, if Lord Robin Arryn felt he had done enough for her already. Jon was perfectly willing to pay a dowry, he said, if a husband was to be procured to her, but Sansa was not to return to Winterfell again, nor would she be received at the Red Keep.

“ You are a traitor for even suggesting this, but you are still my cousin. I will allow you this last chance, to live among your Lady Mother´s family, keep your jewels, dresses, name- everything, but your claim to a throne that does not exist any longer.”

***

This whole thing had been a bad idea- she did not understand what went wrong.

She did not know how she had ended up there. She did not care to know. The whole magic thing, it had never interested her. But she found that she did not mind. Her world had gone to shit. The last thing she remembered was her defiant attitude in defying all that bullshit and go out to the world. One moment, she was out there, partying, dancing and singing and, the other…

Westeros- a world without much to live for. They did not have in house plumbing, only servants to go and draw her a bath. As long as she was not the only carrying the buckets, she was fine...

More than fine, she thought. She had watched the series after all. She knew what was about to happen and was more than prepared for it. Yes, she was  _ no _ t an idiot- Game of Thrones was adapted from a book, a book she did not read. But why would she? The author was a blob who did not care to end it, why would she buy any of the books if she could just tune in and watch the ending as it was supposed to be?

It had been confusing, following all the little rules. She had to admit the show was a condensed version of the books, and she did not get to see all the tedious day to day stuff. If were not for the memories of the body she now inhabited, it would be very difficult to keep up, but she was smart, clearly destined to be Queen. 

Yes, Sansa Stark was the true hero of the tale. She had suffered like no other, and learned to play the game. Everybody loved her and respected her. She was a true lady, not a psycho killing off people and baking them into pies, or a bloodthirsty colonialist who would go mad anyway.

There were many things that did not add up in this reality, and she knew it had to do with the scenes that were cut out- it  _ had _ to be. She never lost time watching those on dvd, of course-why would she? If they were unimportant enough to not make the cut, why would she care? 

Brandon told her she was special. “ You were brought here to tell me the things I can not see… we must make sure what should happen, will happen, even if we need to take shortcuts, or force things and people into places.”

And she did just that, to the best of her abilities. That girl, Myra Reed- she had to go. She told Brandon to do it. Her Father was extremely unhappy, called them ungrateful, but left anyway. Samwell too had a role to play, and he did. The Dragon Bitch did kill his father like she had Brandon predict it, and Samwell understood the importance of keeping Brandon alive and well- a true ally to the end

Of Jaime, she did not think much because she knew he would die with Cersei. Jon had trusted her judgment and she did not mind Brienne having her tryst- she was a true Christian, but not a prude.

But there were some problems along the way, things now in retrospect, she could have paid more attention to. They had been changing so many things, so the butterfly effect was there, right? Like with Daenerys and Tyrion disappearing for days...

She did not mind at the time because she was intelligent. She understood this was an adaptation of an adaptation, so to speak. It would not happen _ exactly  _ as it did before, but they would arrive at the same conclusion:

Brandon as King in the South and she...as Queen in the North.

She had learned about Jon being secretly in love with Sansa during the final season. It was obvious, the looks he would give her...Daenerys was only a political thing, of no importance. 

When she learned of Brandon´s death, she was shocked. Tyrion was exiled- their marriage was annulled. 

These changes...they could mean…

She would be Queen...of the Seven Kingdoms!

Jon was next in line. Daenerys would die in the south- he would kill her, all to protect her, Sansa, his true love.

But it did not go this way

Had it been one of the deleted scenes? Their marriage? Was she truly pregnant? She remembered some butthurt fans posting pictures of the behind the scenes, that awful Emilia with a bump...

But those were deleted scenes! Things of no importance- why did they matter?

_ Why? _

No. no. no- this was  _ not _ the ending!

They were all wrong. It was a good ending! Shakespearian! Jon loved  _ her _ the most- but they could not be together. Arya was a badass; Sansa, a feminist icon. Brandon was a fucking computer, that is right, but a good one? Tyrion would guide him- Tyrion and Bronn, together, making jokes about whores!

Who did not love Bronn?

It was a happy ending! A good ending. 

The signs were all there. Daenerys was mad. She was not to blame for  _ that _ . If her fans were so stupid, those bloody snowflakes, then it was  _ their _ fault!

They had crossed to the Riverlands, she was told. She did not care for the information, but she was gracious, thanking her maid for sharing it

“ My Lady, this means you are to wear a mask once we arrive at the Inn...the plague is not yet controlled, and by the Queen´s orders---”   
  


Queen's orders? Masks? This fucking madness again? Nobody would be telling  _ her  _ what to do here- not anymore!

“ I am Sansa Stark of Winterfell- and I will  _ not  _ be wearing masks!

***

Jon and Arya had been gone to Skagos when the letter arrived. The Steward was the one to open it: 

> “ Your Grace, is with a heavy heart that I share the news of the passing of my niece, Lady Sansa of House Stark. She did not make it to Riverrun, having caught the plague on her way here. I was told she, like many others, refused to wear the masks your wife, Her Grace Daenerys, insisted we wear for our own protection once we venture outside and interact with strangers. I can only express my sadness at this turn of events, but I trust this was a lesson we all learned- the plague will not care about our wealth or our styles. We all must do our share. May the Seven bless and guard you. Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun."   
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let´s say you were dropped in Westeros as a modern-day person- do you really think you would be able to fully understand a life you have not lived, just read or watched?  
>  Not bloody likely- at least, not after some adjustments.
> 
> I am a History graduate. I would not be able to act exactly like a woman of the Middle Ages would, despite knowing some of their History,. The same goes here.
> 
> I let it open with Daenerys. Qaith though she had not lived a life, but experienced some memories. But even her, as a woman born in that day and age, sometimes slipped after coming into our world. If she had lived it or not, in this case as it is open to interpretations, she brought with her some changed attitudes, and sometimes, she struggled.
> 
> But Sansa here? A modern brat dropped at Westeros, someone who thinks is smart, but is not, a girl incapable of really adapting, unable to really engage with the people of the time because she lacked intellectual curiosity?
> 
> It would not go down smoothly...
> 
> Filled with my headcanons as it is, this fic has two premisses I borrowed from other fics: first, If Magic brought one, it could very well bring more, from the classic the Mountain´s Range. Second, books or movies...the realities mix in strange ways, going from one to the other and disrupting the narrative, from one my favorites, but less known fics. TH Elvenking's Visitors, by VioletVision here on Ao3.
> 
> As for Brandon, the question remains: an idea that you had in the 90´s, would still work today? Most likely, not. But being generous with GRRM, Bran will not be a computer. But the fact is, he sent a ten years old on this quest and is highly unlikely Bran will grow up to be a well adjusted, functioning person- or even close to. If GRRM indeed will write him as a good-natured boy with a great Power, who does not understand it very well...this is very simple and it can only work as a starting point.
> 
> What I would expect is more than being socially awkward, but rather, challenged by social contact in ways that only children can be. Frustration at times- why they cannot understand me?- and certain unfinished quality teenagers have that prevent them from fully gasping an adult struggles...the impatience, the annoyance...all thise feelings and the burden of the world. 
> 
> It does not go well with godlike powers, nor should be portrayed as such. Here, what really brought Bran to near villainhood was the presence of a Sansa fully commited to Jonsa´s dogma. She wanted the story to end a certain way and her way was slightly different than what Bran had in mind.
> 
> Again, being generous here, what kind of King Bran could be? The population would have dwindled. His allegiance is to the Children. It would be a more Magical Kingdom, but would it be socially more just? Would he even understand this was needed?
> 
> and for him to be King, Jon and Daenerys had to go. If not dead, somewhere far- this is what he hinted it would be. 
> 
> The choices made by Jon, I hope, were not hard to understand here. Jaime might be a well-liked character, but no Stark nor northman would really care for his redemption arc- this is solely for the readers and the southrons sensibilities. Jon is not mad- he is just in touch with his dragon side, courtesy of his bond being established early on. Fire does not make him nervous- is a weapon as any other.
> 
> This is not the end, but an end. It can be read as the end to a first part of a story, but an end of sorts. I have planed two more chapters and an epilogue. I hope you stick around.


	10. A friend in need...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy interlude before the twins are born and Daenerys could be forgiven to have thought this would be the rest of her life...
> 
> But Jon has plans and Aurane returns...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. I had planned to take a break once I finished the last part, but not that long. However, we had a covid case at daycare, , so...
> 
> One more chapter to go- and the Epilogue.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> the usual- no beta read, typos, mistakes...just let me know, okay?

“Jon, tell me truly: why do you insist on taking The Norrey and Lord Manderley with us?”

Arya´s voice was no more louder than a whisper, but Jon heard her just fine. He gently placed the goblet over the table and glanced at his sister. In her eyes, Jon saw a hint of annoyance. 

Jon udid not blame her. Arya  _ feels I am not telling her everything...and does not like my coddling. _

_ And she is right. What I am doing- is not enough...is not fair. _

Nonetheless, Jon would not tell Arya the truth.

No, the truth was devastating- would change everything.

How could he say anything? Tell Arya there was no other way...that he had to kill Bran?

He had killed Bran. Their brother.

_ Her brother. _

The truth... would destroy the last remnants of their family.

He could not do that- and this reluctance was not only rooted in selfish reasons.

Arya had lost enough already. Jon could not take  _ this  _ from her. It made him sick to his stomach, but he had learned this feeling would dissipate, as the future he saw in his travels would come to pass.

Not that Arya had not made questions before. She had. And Jon had answered them- with half trues and white lies. He allowed her to fill in the blanks herself and, in doing so, they both created a fiction about the War for the Dawn.

Quaith, Marwyn and Bran had sacrificed themselves for the good of all peoples. __

_ Willingly _ .

Jon had returned, but Bran had stayed behind, in the realm of dreams and magic, together with the thousand eyes of the Old Gods he served.

Arya had accepted this version of the events an dhad never questioned Jon about it again, which was a blessing.

Once he returned to King's Landing,Jon would see that the story would be written down, for the generations to read and know, not about what really happened, but about what Jon  _ wished _ it had happened.

“If you are unhappy they are on their way to Skagos, or fear they will interfere... “

“ No. “ Arya interrupted, raising her voice an octave. “ It is not  _ that _ .”

Jon shifted in his seat, and then, pointing at the plate in front of Arya, said sternly “You should eat your soup, sister. “ 

The soup would soon get cold, Jon added, reminding Arya old Meril would take offense if she was not to eat at least half. 

Arya made a face. “I can barely look at food, let alone eat it.” She pushed the plate away from her , keeping only the cup of warm diluted wine by her. 

“ I don't care if they are coming, I just want to know  _ why _ you asked them to...if it is because you fear that Rickon is…”

Arya faltered. She did not want to think about it...about the possibility of Rickon being dead…” and if so, I want you to know...they would not dare doubt our word…”

“Take heart, little sister: Rickon is alive. This much I know.”

Jon was pleased to see a small smile forming on Arya's lips. “Is it true?” she asked, sudden excitement animating her small voice, her expressive eyes shining with hope and longing. “ Did Bran show you Rickon, Jon?  _ Did he _ ?”

Tempting as it was to simply nod at Arya, Jon hesitated. His silence would only serve to add to the bigger lie, and he found this too much to bear.

“Magic is not the only source of information we have access to, Arya. Ser Davos, the man who sailed south with me- you do not know him in person, but he is someone I trust with my eyes closed- he told me so. He found Rickon in Skagos, and I have no reason to believe the White Walkers cared to take the island, or that Rickon and Osha sailed away.”

Arya let out a small “ oh” and sipped from the warm wine, lips getting red at the contact. “ Yes, I think you mentioned. I just thought that...well, I hope he is still there. Rickon, I mean.”

“Before we retake Winterfell, Lord Manderley caught word that Rickon had sailed to Skagos. He arranged for Davos to go and, while Davos did find our brother, he also said something about House Magnar having adopted Rickon.”

While nominally belonging to The North, Skagos was a place that even the northerners were weary of. Human sacrifices to the trees, first night still being a practiced, unicorns roaming the plains- Skagos was a land with its own rules and laws.

Rickon´s adoption by a noble house of Skagos presented a potential problem that could not be ignored, not when the whole of Westeros was starting to recover from years of famine and destruction. 

“ You need our nobles to go and see with their own eyes that Rickon is no longer a Stark- is that it?”

If Arya sounded defensive, she was. Rickon, as the last legitimate son of House Stark, was, by rights, the Lord of Winterfell. She would always support Jon, but not at the expense of a brother she felt needed protection.

Her tone might have been mildly accusatory, for Jon firmly replied.“ _ Rickon is our brother. _ “ 

Arya lowered her eyes as Jon continued to speak. “He will always be our brother- but time has passed, Arya. He is not the child we remember anymore. Winterfell, for him, is the place he ran away from. What I want is to make sure Rickon is alive, is well and that he knows he can come back- but only if he wants to, Arya.”

Arya would have said Rickon should not be the one making such a great decision on account of his young age, but she stopped dead of the tracks. 

_ Rickon must be around the same age Bran was when he ruled Winterfell as in invalid, when Robb left to fight a war afterboth mother and father went to die south... _

No, Arya could not say that- that Rickon was too young to choose, because they, the Starks children, had been deemed old enough to go through war, famine and horrors by those who should have protected them...

So, yes, Rickon would choose.

***

And Rickon chose not to return…

“I cannot blame him, but still…” Arya mumbled as she looked through the window. They had been given rooms on the largest tower and, although House Magnar did not observe the exact same customs as other Houses of First Men descent, they took guest´s rights very seriously, being far from the savages the books described them.

“...you wished he had chosen us.” Part of Jon understood, but at this point, he only had dreams for the future, not the past. “ He did not reject us, sister...he just wants to stay where he feels safe, with the only family he can remember.”

“But we will make him remember, yes?” Arya asked, looking for reassurance. “ You said Lord Manderly will arrange for a learned man to come and teach Rickon his letters…I will be writing him- and visiting him.”

“I can take you. “ Jon told Arya, who gifted him with an open smile. “Do you like flying?”

“It is cold..” she replied, cheeks blushing slightly.” But I am a Stark. and I enjoy travelling.”

“We still have the issue of the succession to discuss, sister.” Jon pointed at a wooden stool near the small window Arya leaned on. “I believe the nobles will not create problems, especially when Rickon is betrothed to the granddaughter of a House without ties to any on the mainland.”

The politics were less complicated then one would assume. Rickon would still be recognized as a Stark, but not as an heir. Skagos, isolationist as it was, belonged in the North- and everybody would know where Rickon was and whose House had made him its heir.

With neither Arya nor Jon willing to push the issue with House Magnar, and the word of Lord Manderly and The Norrey the boy had not been under duress, Rickon had been, in practical terms, given up his rights to Winterfell.

But not disowned. Had they been a southron House, this abdication would be a nightmare, with people advocating for Rickon to either join the Faith, enter the Citadel or be shipped off to The Wall, Jon mused

The North, however, was another thing entirely. Tradition, for once, still had a place in their society- and so did the common laws of the land. At eight years of age, Rickon was considered old enough to be heard, being a year older than the youngest Lord Commander in History and, since they were no longer a Kingdom anymore, they could dispense with many formalities the otherwise displacement of a Prince would demand.

Besides, there was the issue of the self determination of Houses. Despite the lady of Bear Lady not being married, the Mormonts had declared themselves legitimate and nobody dared call them Snows- if this was possible without any real repercussions, who would tell Rickon he was not a Magnar of Kingshouse?

“What about Sansa?” Arya asked, hesitantly. “ I agree with your decision to exile her, Jon, but she still is a daughter of Winterfell.”

“She certainly did not behave as one.” Jon shook his head. Had Sansa not overstepped, Jon would have no other choice but to grant her the title of her ancestors. _ How could someone been that stupid?.  _ “Lord Tully will have her married off in no time, he promised me. The dowry is very rich, on par with her status, and although there is a shortage of males of noble birth, there are still Lords needing their Ladies- she is smart, Arya. Not as smart as she thought she was, but smart nevertheless. She understands her options.”

***

Jon regretted this affirmation about Sansa´s smarts the minute he returned to Winterfell and read the letter Lord Tully had sent him.

_ Stupid bint, died as she lived... _

Regardless, Sansa was a Stark. Arya dropped many tears on the behalf of her sister as Jon watched, unsure of what to say. 

He felt...nothing. As if Sansa had been unknown to him, a stranger. 

What is more, Jon could not say this unexpected death was tragic and he suspected many of Winterfell felt the same.

And soon enough, even Arya moved on from the depression- a couple of days after, they all but forgot about Sansa and her ultimate fate, good news burying the bad ones.

“You are with child.”Jon smiled, his right hand patting his sister´s back. “ I am very happy, Arya.”

Her emotions, however positive, were also mixed with concerns. “ We were not married...I remember how Mother treated you and…”

“...and she is not here to do the same with your child, nor we will allow anybody to look down on him.”

The last word caught Arya´s attention. “ _ Him? _ ” She furrowed her brows, confused. “ Are you the Three Eyed raven now?”

_ There won't be any three eyed raven anymore, little sister. _ “ No, but I have a suspicion…” _ I think this will come to pass...the future is unwritten...I will make sure it will pass...  _ “ Or rather, I wish him to be a boy so I can have someone to hunt with everytime I come to Winterfell.”

“You are King now- will you even have time to come, Jon?” Arya was thankful for the time she was spending with Jon, for his support and love but she knew he had a wife in the south and soon, he would have a family of his own. “You know I have no interest in contracting a political marriage. I agreed to stay at Winterfell and rule until you find someone who could do it because you said the maester told you Daenerys is having twins and that the second born would inherit Winterfell, which I am not against it now that we know Rickon is not coming back.”

Jon cupped Arya´s face and took a deep breath. “Arya, listen to me: you will have a child, a gift Gendry left you before he left this world. Gendry had been legitimized himself, and I can do that for your babe. I know you do not have interest in playing Lady of the Keep, but you are capable enough to hold Winterfell for years while you raise your child here, safe and far from danger. You can send him or her to us when time comes for fostering and travel again if you will, but I must insist you stay here, where I can visit you often enough and help.”

“Jon, what if...what if I can not do it? I am not like a mother...not like Sansa.”

“No.” said Jon with a smile. “ You are better- much better.”

***

As Jon knew most of the free folk stationed at Winterfell had either left or was planning on leaving soon, he ventured to Wintertown before he himself would be travelling south, a last attempt at making amends to someone he still cared for.

And to ask for a favor: “ Arya is with child, Val. She will need help, and I know you will too.”

Caring for an orphaned child, her nephew nevertheless, was something that had never been in Val´s plans. 

The free woman gave Jon a piercing look. “ The other one...the red haired one- why don´t you ask her?”

“Sansa is dead, caught the plague down the Neck, never made it to Riverrun.”

Val hummed, then bit her lower lip. “ Never liked her.”

_ You are not the only one _ . “ But you are liked. The servants know you and respect you. They will help with Aemon while you help Arya. There is much work to be done, Val.”

Only someone like Val, used to the hardships of the great outdoors and the freedom of nomadic life, to fully appreciate the comforts of a castle like Winterfell, a place of safety and austere generosity. 

Jon hoped it was enough to entice Val to accept - he had no idea what more he could offer if she turned him down.

“If it is your wish to leave with your people, you are free to go, as you always have been. In this case, I just ask you to consider extending your stay until Arya is due, when I am to return.”

“Very well.” Val said with a grin. “ I stay. But hear me, Jon: this is the last thing you can ask of me.”

***

“We received a letter from Sunspear.” 

Daenerys watched Missandei closely, trying to see if the statement had any effect on her friend, only to be disappointed: the former scribe said nothing, and continued to butter her slice of bread while Jhiqui poured her some tea.

Not amused by such displays of stoicism, Daenerys raised her voice ever so slightly: “The Prince is asking for your hand in marriage, Missandei- do you have  _ something _ to say?”

This made some impression on Missandei, who replied in a defensive tone. “You sound displeased- Are you against the match?”

“ _ No _ ...not if you are not against it, I mean...this just caught me unawares...that is all.”

Jhiqui shook her head, mystified that someone as observant as their Khaleesi would be  _ that  _ blind: “You kept sending the girl to all those feasts when she could have been fighting with our men and are surprised the good Prince wants her all for himself?”

“Is Viserion the reason for your concern? If so, I can swear he will be eventually returned to House Targaryen. I told Trystane this myself, that I might come as a bride without a dragon...”

_ And he still made the proposal.  _ Daenerys had no reason to doubt Missandei´s words. This alone spoke the Prince's favour, but this development had never crossed her mind and she was truly taken aback.

With all the war, threats of obliteration and pregnancy hormones, Daenerys had to admit she did not have that much time to speak with her friends on subjects that had very little do with her great concerns. “ I am sorry Missandei. I have not been such a good friend lately...I can only guess you did not speak about your love life on account of the many problems I have faced this past month. I should have made time for you.”

“Oh, I suppose you have the wrong idea…”

It was not a love affair, but another marriage of friendship and convenience. The time Missandei spent at Dorne made her a known entity there, someone they could speak to and agree with, so naturally, now that the dragons were back and with Daenerys having tied herself with a northern alliance, an adopted dragonrider who spoke several Languages and had a gift for Diplomacy was seen as the next best thing.

“ and I happen to find the Prince not so bad to look at.” Missandei added, her golden eyes smiling.

At least, Daenerys consoled herself, there was a spark. “ I am glad to hear it, Missandei. We will enter negotiations for your betrothal agreement- you made us proud.”

***   
When Jon returned to Dragonstone, Daenerys was so tired she could barely walk more than a couple of minutes without the need of a rest.

“You should go to bed and stay there...try not to make any effort- sleep!”

Daenerys would have agreed with the directive, but she felt a bit of exercise was equally important in her current predicament:

“ I can breath well enough and I feel no muscular pain whatsoever. I just get tired after a while, carrying all this weight, that is all.”

But Jon was of mind that a bit of caution would not hurt and sought to convince Daenerys not to overtax herself. 

“ Then go for a walk at the beach with Greyworm and the guards in the morning, when you have more energy, but do not waste what you still have left by walking through corridors, going from room to room- you only need to be seen once, at the Court. I can deal with the rest. “

And thus, for the next two months, they established the pattern that would dictate their future style of ruling, with Jon being the one handling the day to day dealings with the nobles and servants of the Crown and Daenerys joining him at the Small Council to share her plans and discuss the most pressing problems before appearing at the Great Hall at Dragonstone to hear petitions.

They would end their working days at dinnertime, leaving their guests to enjoy themselves while they returned to their shared quarters for a nightcap, usually the ginger tea Daenerys had become fond of and Jon had learned to appreciate.

“With your thirst for innovations and the designs we received from the Citadel, I think it is best we remain at Dragonstone for the foreseeable future, KIng's Landing will be nowhere finished in the years to come.”

Daenerys agreed: “I thought as much, it might take over five years until we have done enough headway…” She then paused. Dragonstone being an island offered more security for them and their family- dragons included. This was a plus, but they also needed to rule a continent, and without the advantage of having a meeting easily accessible by foot, they would have to adapt.

“Our dragons give us the gift of fast travelling and we should make use of it more often. If the Lords cannot easily visit us, we should visit them.”

Jon said nothing, but nodded. Daenerys thought he looked sad, but as he leaned in to kiss her, her concerns dissipated.

She answered the kiss eagerly, her hands already reaching for his laces. There was not so much as foreplay as they made love that afternoon. It felt very intimate, very normal now...they had learned many things about each other and spending that couple of months apart seemed to have only solidified things, as they had been both working diligently not to save the world, but to build a better one for their family.

Daenerys had not realized, but she had missed him- and she had needed this. “ I am happy to have you here, Jon. I was feeling a bit...lonely...and with all the weight I gained, I was not sure you would want..”

Jon gave her a confused look. “ There is nothing more beautiful than a woman with child...as long as you want and if it is not hurting the babes, why would I not want it?”

Daenerys gigled. It made sense that men of this day and age would be taught to appreciate their women carrying their offspring as their whole social system depended on the continuation of their lines.

Not only that but rural societies tended to see obvious symbols of fertility as very attractive to have, and, at this point, like Irri predicted, Daenerys, round as she was, breasts large and heavy, was the picture of maternity. 

So far, so good, Daenerys thought,snuggling to Jon, a smile on her lips.

***

They made Ambrose the Grandmaester and brought him all the way to Dragonstone, mainly in preparation to the birth of their twins, but when the temperatures dropped announcing the first annual autumn of Westeros, the plague´s numbers spiked, and the healer´s presence became even more indispensable as they navigated through another crisis.

But trying times also have a good side to them. With Aurane away, caring for his own little family at High Tide, there was nothing to distract Daenerys from the warmth of Jon´s affections and, when she finally went to deliver their daughters, Daenerys wanted nothing more than to have Jon by her side, holding her hand as she screamed in agony.

“Your Grace, the birthing bed is not a pleasant experience and it should be kept far from the father's eyes. Men are more nervous, anxious about these things…”

“...perhaps because they are not allowed in until it is all over?” Daenerys rispidelly retorted. “ If men are to be by their women´s side, they can see exactly the troubles they have to go through to give them babies, and thus l give them a new appreciation for their efforts.”

And God knew Daenerys wanted to be appreciated- she had carried the twins as close to what she knew what was their due date, had spent the last weeks conferencing with midwives and healers, working on a compendium of good practices to be used for the benefit of her people, and had even managed to perfect intimate stretching oil as to avoid any ripping to happen….

So, yes, she  _ so _ wanted Jon to be there for her this time, because she was not keen on going through all this trouble but for a couple of times more- his dreams of a large family had to be dashed!

But also...Daenerys craved his support, needed even.

“A very good point, Your Grace, but...there are other concerns. We all see the true love the both of you share, and the fact is that, some men, witnessing their women in such….exposures...are known to have...err...difficulties in seeing them as more than mothers…”

Daenerys would have laughed if the contraction coming had not left her twitching in pain.

_ Jon is not like that...he will not turn me down just because he saw a head coming out of my vagina! He is surely not that easily impressionable. _

“ The King is to stay...by my side…” she said in between deep breaths. “ this is final…”

So it was. Jon stayed by Daenerys' side- the whole 12 hours. He saw her vomiting on a bucket many times, he cleaned the cold sweat off her forehead, heard her cries- even endured her threats of not having him anywhere near her in the future, to avoid such pain…

And yes, he was there when she delivered both girls on the most comfortable position she found , bending over a tall table, with Irri crouched underneath, expertly picking up the princesses one by one and handing them to be carried away, roughly cleaned, weighed and measured, all before being returned to the arms of their tired mother, who by them had already delivered the placenta, also roughly cleaned with warm water and padded with what could only be described as a giant diaper…

ButDaenerys was happy. Not even all the discomfort caused by her hunger and nausea, nor the pain in her nether area or the annoyance at a bleeding she knew would continue for weeks was enough to shadow the utter delight that was to have finally met the two little human beings that had made her womb their home all those months.

***

Jon could not help the tears. 

“ Well met, Joana.”

She looked at him with big, violet eyes- the only Targaryen feature she would ever have. The long face and nose...the head full of dark brown hair…

Winterfell would be his second daughter's castle.

He was proud of them both. Joana, who was about to sleep in his arms, having already had her share of food and Visenya, still firmly attached to her mother´s breasts, eager to have not only the Seven Kingdoms, but all the milk Daenerys had to offer…

They were his, they were there and he would make sure to protect them.

***

The dream was unsettling, unclear, clouded in fog and mist.

Daenerys woke with a start.

Her hearteats, pounding in her chest, were loud enough to cut the stillness of the night. 

Jon too, had woken up.

“A nightmare? ” He asked in his amorous voice as he gently patted Daenerys back. 

She looked at him, at her husband. He had been so kind, so attentive...everything she would have hoped in a life partner.

She loved him, now she knew, and he loved her, so...why was she dreaming of Aurane?

Why was Aurane so present, still, even when he was away?

Daenerys took a deep breath. She was being unfair with her feelings. Confused as she was, she had accepted long ago Aurane belonged in the past. He was in her thoughts, always would be, but not that often- truth be told, they had, by now, spent more time apart than together- it was only natural that she felt herself closer to Jon than to Auarne now.

But loving Jon, being with him, sharing her bed, her body, her soul...there was still a part of her undoubtedly connected to Aurane.

_ Aurane...always Aurane _ . 

“ I could not see it, or hear much...not a dream, more like a premonition, a sense of doom, if you will- Aurane needs our help.”

Having expected a look of mild jealousy, hurt even, Daenerys was surprised by Jon´s reaction, a tint of sadness in his eyes, but understanding.

“I see...he needs us, you say?”

“You are his friend too, are you not? Not to mention, family…”

Although raised as a bastard, Jon had spent his childhood in a large castle, protected and safe, if not cherished, with brothers and sisters to play with. Daenerys, on the other hand, only had Viserys. Now an adult, she clinged to the flimsy bonds of blood she had in Westeros, treating distant cousins like Shireen and Aurane as if they were closer relations.

To tell her the truth of how he felt would be heartbreaking.  _ No, not now- not yet _ . The last months had been all Jon had ever wanted, but felt unworthy of: meaningful work, a castle to keep, a beautiful wife to make love to, children to love and be proud of…

But it was a dream, not meant to be enjoyed for too long. It was time, Jon knew, to wake up to the reality of their situation. His children would always come before Daenerys, even if it meant years of estrangement, the bitter price for a much sweeter future.

“ I will fly to Driftmark, see if Aurane has sent word, see if he has returned. If I find him, I will take him back.”

***

Jon returned that same day with the news: Allyria had died in a hunting accident.

Aurane was devastated.

Daenerys cried, desolated. 

Aurane had a daughter, a babe not that older than her twins, another child fated to grow up without a mother.

All in all, a common tragedy. Lady Velaryon, cunning and capabilities aside, was no motherly type. All her attention would go to raise her grandson with the time she had left. She would leave Aurane´s girl to be largely attended by servants, the neglected daughter of her late husband bastard.

As for Aurane, he was many things, but a doting father? 

Daenerys doubted.

“I told him to come to us, to bring the babe with…”

Jon´s voice was tender, his words, even better.

Stupefied, but happy, Daenerys placed her arms around Jon, kissing him deeply. 

How did he know this would be what she wanted?

***

The guests had started to arrive, nobles from all corners of Westeros coming to Dragonstone to witness the rebirth of House Targaryen, the nameday celebrations of the first princesses to be born from this line in over two decades.

Lady Olenna lost no time. “ Desmera would have liked to come, Your Grace, but you see, she too gave birth recently to a beautiful, strong babe boy named after my poor Willas. He will surely grow up to be a great match for your Visenya...Highgarden would be so honoured if you could consider this possibility when the time comes...”

Daenerys would have offered some non committal reply had Jon not given Lady Olenna a rather decisive one. “ We are to have a boy of our own and keep with the tradition of our House, my Lady.”

Lady Olenna bowed slightly, surprised but obviously not intimidated by this answer. “ Let the Seven bless you, Your Grace.We can only pray for a boy.”

The whole exchange, fast as it was, told Daenerys volumes. She noticed how Lady Olenna had not blinked an eye when Jon claimed House Targaryen as his own. A legitimized bastard, whether a wolf or a dragon, was considered less than his royal wife and, as per tradition, everybody would expect the lower husband to take his wife's name as his own.

Lady Olenna´s no reaction to Jon´s wish to keep with the Targaryen tradition of marrying brother to sister, should not have come as a surprise to Daenerys- but it did. She fully expected the woman to make a case for building alliances, but the idea of restoring a dying noble house through marriage was something every westerosi noble would understand, especially for Olenna, who had avoided the Tyrell name to go to waste by marrying her own granddaughter to a lesser cousin with the right name.

So, Daenerys smiled at the scene, and poured herself another goblet or grape juice.

***

Missandei approached Daenerys discreetly after the High Septon had blessed the princesses, leaning her upper body forwards a few inches to whisper in her friend´s ears: “ Aurane has just arrived.”

A polite smile hiding her nervousness, some minutes spent at the dais, accepting well wishes of nobles, and then Daenerys managed to effortlessly slipped away from the crowds, two of her guards trailing behind her as she walked the corridors to Aurane´s assigned chambers.

They embraced. He shed some tears on her shoulders, her warm hands lovingly petting his long, silver hair, no words spoken...a silence broken only by Jon, who had been by the door, watching the scene.

“We need to speak.”

***

Daenerys was about to throw up.

Jon was leaving her.

Aurane said nothing, just listened. Jon had been rendered sterile by the war. The same Magic that brought him to life and that enabled him to save their world, had demanded its pound of flesh- with two girls and no male heir, it would only be a question of time until a new civil war erupted.

Daenerys could not refute History, could not fault Jon´s arguments. They would be married off, their new families would each have a claim to the Iron Throne, would forge new alliances and, once both Daenerys and Jon were gone, would fight.

There was no space for naivité in Westeros.They could not be sure this would happen, Daenerys said, just to fall silent when Jon replied they also could not know this would not happen.

“...and I did not become a father to endanger the lives of my children by expecting my enemies to share my morals and to love their own above their ambitions.”

_ Ned Stark...he is talking about Ned Stark.  _ Good people doing good things can be as bad as bad people doing bad things. Ned Stark did not want to taint his honour by killing children and, in doing so, left his family vulnerable. He did not live enough to see all the destruction this mercy brought onto the world, but his children did, and they barely made out alive-Robb Stark certainly did not.

They had dragons, Jon reminded Daenerys. Westeros almost fell to Ice, and would surely burn with Fire if they insisted in denying the gravity of their situation.

“We need a son. I cannot give you a son- but Aurane can.”

“I am more than a broodmare!” Daenerys gritted her teeth so hard Jon feared she would break them. He wished she was not as fierce and as determined as she was, but those same qualities were what attracted him to her- this, and her sweetness.

He did not want to leave- how could she not see that?

“ You are Queen, and you are a Mother. You must do anything to protect your own, and this is what is required of you.”

“This is madness! You cannot play with our lives this way! I swore a vow...to be your wife...I am not such a woman as to jump from one bed to another…”

Sex was good. Daenerys enjoyed it. Always had, always would. And she loved Aurane. She had experienced his touch, his ardour...this was not about her denying her carnality, denying her desires, but rather, this was about her choices: and she had chosen Jon. She had worked hard for this relationship, for this marriage to be more than a political farce, only to be told that no, she had been a fool- her body was not her own, her will meant nothing, and ruling a Kingdom and having a family only meant a long succession of sacrifices followed by compromises, a chain of sorrows as thick as any Maester would carry on their necks.

“I know all that, Daenerys- trust me, I know.” It pained to do so, but Jon raised his voice. It lacked conviction, because he was personally touched that Daenerys had not readily agreed to his scheme, but he wished the conversation to end.

It was painful, it was hurtful- it was a lie.

“I will travel, I will help hold the North in Joana´s name, I will fly to Highgarden, To the Eyrie, visit the nobles as you had planned to do, while you stay with Aurane. I will return often enough. People will not speak and, if they do, I can proudly say my daughters and sons carry not only my name, but my blood.”

Daenerys knows this much is true. Jon is not a cruel man. He would not mistreat any child and he would not allow anyone to spread gossip about his family.

_ Family.  _ This was sacred to him. Something he never expected to have. Daenerys knew...she knows, deep in her heart, they could not risk their daughter's life on a gamble. 

She knows, but cannot accept it, cannot have this discussion now. 

She is too raw, too disturbed, too broken to continue with this.

“ I am done…”

She just stands up and leaves before the tears come.

***

“You should not have upset her so.”

Jon's eyes met Aurane´s- the man meant what he said. Neither happy or unhappy about the content of their previous conversation, the Velaryon´s bastard attitude seemed to be one of wait and see, his only and most pressing concern being Daenerys reaction…

“Mayhaps not the right time…” Jon had to concede as much. He did not like it, seeing them embraced. Some of his temper flared. He knew Daenerys was simply consoling a friend, but it was a friend she had a past with, a friend who would never refuse her if she so wanted.” but a conversation we needed to have. She is a Queen and a mother before she is a woman- tis the truth and I should be able to say it.”

“Not contesting that. We both know she is dutiful and does not hide from her responsibilities, but still---she has a heart, Jon. She is more than a political entity.”

_ “And the last thing I want to hear from you is how to treat my wife. “  _ Jon wanted to say, but swallowed these words. Aurane was right, but only by half. If Jon chose to engage with this dream, with this mirage for any longer, he would risk everything he truly wanted- a peaceful future, a harmonious family, the calm, comforting love he so craved…

Jon was not Aurane and Aurane was not Jon. They were different- they wanted different things from life. He would not lose time explaining this man he should hate, but does not, because Aurane would never understand- Jon´s hopes and dreams would sound like a glorified prison to the corsair, who, despite becoming a father, still had a thirst for adventure and excitement, an appetite that would very well be the death of him.

Jon  _ knew _ it would be. “You are smart. You know this will pass and you will be there by her side. I know you want this and that you only gave up because Your Queen asked you to, but she is free now. All I ask is that you be with her at all times and that you defend her of any harm, even at the cost of your life. I will be staying half the time at Winterfell...The North must be rebuilt...”

“Hmm.” Aurane arched an eyebrow and gave Jon an once over. The man had his reasons, Aurane agreed, but so much intensity- why?

Would this have anything to do with the wildling warming Jon´s bed? Aurane had not pegged the northerner for someone so easily persuaded- but mayhaps it had not been easy? 

Val, her name was, a beautiful woman no doubt, but no match for the Dragon Queen.

_ Oh well, this is only a matter of taste, of course...if he wants to eat salted, cold meat instead of juicy, grilled veal, he is my guest. _

__ “I will miss the sea, the freedom, but...I ---I will be with her. Yes, I will. And I will keep her safe, so I swear.”

Jon left out a breath. “ Good. We have many enemies in Essos. Slavers will not die a fast, painless death- it will be nasty. She is too optimistic to see that. We must protect her- always. I will make sure the nobles are happy and the North secured and you...you will be our Master of Ships, the Queen's closest advisor. “

***

Asha Greyjoy had been the last guest to arrive for the nameday celebrations, but she was welcomed into the Dragon Court with open arms.

“Dear Asha- I am so glad you came!”

The Queen- _ Daenerys _ \- embrace was warm and fuzzy. Asha did her best to return the affection, but being a born Greyjoy she was not so used with overly physical displays of - at least when you are sober.

“ I would not miss for anything, Your Grace.”

“ Well, we meet later- in private- and you may drop this “ Your Grace” business and tell me  _ everything _ .” Daenerys said pointing at Asha´s obviously swollen stomach. “ and I mean, I know how you placed the bun in the oven so to speak, but I want to know how married life is treating you.”

Asha sighed. It would not be the kind of tale to entertain this particular Queen. She took Dale as her husband because he was the best available choice, not because he stole her heart. The former Captain of the Golden Company Fleet had the strongest ties with Ironborn nobility than his competition, being the first son of an eighth, but legitimate, son of House Ironmaker who had long sailed to Essos to make his fortune.

Asha smiled. “ Looking forward to, Your Grace.” 

She had left Dale behind at Pyke without having second thoughts. They had established a good rapport- he knew his status depended on this marriage and was very careful at not overstepping his bride. Asha had been personally saved by the Queen who controlled the Seven Kingdoms, who just happened to have three dragons- the whole of the Iron Islands did not want a repeat of what happened to Euron Greyjoy´s fleet at Dorne.

No, Asha had been hand picked by the Targaryen Queen who defeated their forces and the new Lady of Pyke was their best chance at surviving the return of the dragons.

Ironmen were tough and greedy, but also pragmatic. 

Asha, at least, knew this to be true regarding their women. They had lost husbands, sons and brothers in this stupid war, but they were made of strong stuff. 

_ Not like mother. _ Asha thought with sadness about the woman who still lived at Harlaw, but barely recognized her only daughter.

But she had been a noble educated for fine things, not a sailor's daughter already used to losing men to the seas…

Tragic as their losses were, the women of the Iron Islands wanted to survive, and survival meant marrying those strangers, bearing their children and making sure the next generation would be better than the last.

Asha took a seat next to the Lady of Storm's End, Shireen. The girl had grown quite a bit and had become quite talkative, but Asha did not mind all the questions, finding that, she too ,had missed her little friend.

They watched the ceremony in silence, Asha only vaguely familiar with the procedures. It was fast- at least, faster than what she had anticipated- and the drinking started right after. Asha had ordered her wine to be heavily diluted as the Maesters were now recommending women to drink soft beverages when expecting, and she had actually found that her sickness would go away when she stuck by warm tea and cold water, so not drinking was not a deterrent for having a good time.

In fact, Asha was enjoying herself, having a surprisingly polite conversation with one of the many Hightowers in attendance when Jhiqui, one of Daenerys handmaidens, approached her.

“ Khaleesi is waiting, Lady Greyjoy.”

Asha nodded and followed the bronze skinned woman to the Queen´s chambers, finding a visibly upset Daenerys by the table. 

“Is there something wrong?” Asha asked as she took her seat.

Daenerys inhaled deeply. “ Well...where to start? I don't think this political marriage thing is for me…”

Asha was confused. What did Daenerys mean by that? The King, Jon, was clearly in love with his wife, who obviously adored him.

They seemed very well matched, to the point many at the feast were openly commenting on their love. 

“What happened, Daenerys? Everything seemed…”

“ _ Fine _ ? Oh...I suppose I too was fooled by appearances...or am i being just unfair? Maybe…” Daenerys hesitated...why was she so keen on even speaking about it? She guessed she wanted to vent to someone...and Asha, being her only wedded and pregnant friends, was in position to at least partially understand what she was going through?

“maybe Jon just changed his mind...” Daenerys said in a defeated tone.” Maybe I should not have let him into the birthing room...maybe it was like Ambrose said…or maybe he is just not into me?”

“Daenerys, you should not waste any time trying to make sense of it because, if your husband is truly denying you, then he is mad!” 

And Asha was not saying that to comfort a friend- she truly believed every word.

Political alliances forged in marriages were the norm amongst nobility, but the fact did not make it any easier. The rules were clearer, definitely, but that was about it. Sharing a life with a stranger seldom meant peace and harmony.

And yet, there was room for improvement, Asha knew it. Her parents, for instance: personalities aside, her mother and father reached a level of happiness at some point, Asha was told, which just made their fallout even more dramatic. 

But the loss of three children to a war her husband had started was too much for Asha´s mother to bear- and she doubted Jon had any reason to complain about his wife.

“Live your life the best you can and do not think about what could have been- let him be and , mayhaps, with time, he comes to his senses…give him time, Daenerys.”

***

Aurane had the tact to wait for the next day to speak with Daenerys, a gesture she was incredibly thankful for it had prevented him from seeing her at her lowest.

Somehow, her pride would not allow this- no man was worth her tears, she had long decided.

“I saw that you placed Elaena in the nursery with your girls…”Aurane started, voice sweet like honey. “ You have my thanks.”

“They will be raised together- I assume you are to follow the directives of Your King, that you are staying?”

“ Only if you want me to, Daenerys. It is your decision. Our decision, really.”

Daenerys sighed. She would not go after Jon- no, this she would never do- but she needed time…she did not want to jump into a new relationship so soon.

Yes, she loved Aurane. She knew what it was to be with him- but this would be new territory for both of them, very different from what they had before.

Aurane sensed her uneasiness. A man less convinced of his own worth would take this reaction as a bad sign and be offended by it, but not him. 

It only meant that the woman he loved once- and loved still- was not a woman capable of sharing her body when her heart still needed healing.

“I was not expecting us to pick up where we left off, Dany. We can do this courtship thing you mentioned in Volantis...you called dating, if memory serves?”

This was unexpected- and it provided Daenerys with the first smile of the day. 

“ Dating? Really, Aurane? Are you sure?”

“It sounded fun...we could travel...Braavos is an ally you are yet to visit...I know a place there...we could go under disguises…”

Daenerys decided she liked the idea- she was willing to try. 

“ Yes, I say we should do it, yes- a date, a night out.”

Aurane face lit up. 

“ Could you tell me how this works, exactly? “

***

Jon flew back to the North a couple of days later. Daenerys made sure to be seen bidding him goodbye, playing the part of dutiful wife, but privately shehad been frosty since their last coversation, avoiding his presence the best she could.

Jon had not made any attempt at speaking about their arrangement again and respected her boundaries. They sat side by side at the Great Hall and made small talk - but that was it. Daenerys spent most of her time caring for her daughters during the day and , when they slept, she met with advisors and heard petitions. The girls had a night nurse who would take care of their needs and provide their mother with the luxury of a nightrest; their father, not needing anywhere near as many hours of sleep, would assist the nannies and play with the babes by morning, as they were adept at waking up at first light, while Daenerys still slept.

Jon took a step forward, planting a kiss on Daenerys right cheek, close enough to her lips. She stayed still, intent in not denying Jon this much civility. She had calmed down considerably. She did not like it, nor she agreed with how Jon was handling their personal life, but she knew he had his reasons and was not keen on discussing them- her focus, from then on, would be on raising their family together like the blended family they were now supposed to be.

All in all, it could be worse- but also, it could have been better. 

“ I know this is not what you intended when you married me...this is not what we both promised each other, Daenerys, but it is what it must to be done. “

“So you say…” she murmured.

“Joanna belongs in Winterfell, but honour aside, nobles in the North are still nobles.” If Arya had a son, Jon hoped he would make a good consort for Joanna. But there were so many variables...what happened to Bran, to Sansa, only served to show Jon that family could only go so far when shaping a person, as neither became what Ned Stark had intended them to be.” and nobles quarrell, break words and vows, betray and kill...I can not rest while I make sure what happens to us will not happen to them.”

“I understood this part Jon- and I agree with you. What I am not convinced is that what you have in mind is the best way…”

“Not the best way- the _ only _ way.” Jon gently corrected her, taking her hands into his. The gesture did meet some initial hesitation, but Daenerys ultimately gave up- and Jon took her hands to his lips and kissed them. “It is because I love them...I love you, that it needs to be done.”

She said nothing. His words...she was not sure she could believe him. Instead of mulling things over, Daenerys looked at the skies, observing as Rhaegal descended on the courtyard to ferry his bonded rider back to the cold North.

But before mounting his dragon and leaving, Jon turned his head to Daenerys and said: “ This is not the end, Daenerys- I promise you that.”

***

Val visited Jon´s chambers the first night upon his return and, while he had no intention of continuing their association, the free woman had other ideas.

“ You are here, she is there- I came first and I do not mind your southron's customs.”

It took some months for the idea to finally hold some appeal. In the North Jon felt his wild instincts emerge stronger, the wolf in him howling for meat, for blood, for release. 

After Arya´s babe was born- a son she named after her father- Jon decided not to deny himself anymore.

He started to share his furs with Val.

***

Daenerys had wanted to wait a full year, but her body had aptly responded to Aurane´s attentions and she fell pregnant by thetime her twins turned six months old.

“Good- I am glad you reconsidered, Dany.”

Jon said when informed of the news, unfazed by it all.

Daenerys made no answer- what could she say?

This pregnancy was harder than before. Daenerys almost died during childbirth, which took twice as long as it had with the twins. The babe, a boy they named Daeron, was big and healthy, and Daenerys felt guilty her first thought after being given him to nurse was that he would be the last she would ever have.

Aurane was fine with her decision. He had never been really interested in fatherhood, not as Jon was at least. In the years to come, Aurabe behaved more like a fun loving uncle to all the children in the Targaryen household, even his own, pleased to watch and take part on their games, but weary of establishing rules or questions of discipline. 

Jon, on the other hand, was definitely hands on, spending as much time with the children as Daenerys when he was at Dragonstone, Joanna being the closest to him.

“ I want papa!” was all it took for Jon to excuse himself from a meeting and hold the girl in his arms until she calmed herself down.

Daenerys understood the deep connection, but was of opinion there could not be any favoritism: “You must take pains to share your attention equally among them, Jon- Visenya is five and is already noticing how you dote on Joanna.”

Jon took the advice for what it was- not a reprimand, but a mother concerned with fairness. “ You are right. They are growing and demanding more or us. I will make time for each one of them, as it is only fair they all have access to their father. Visenya likes to watch the knights practice- I can take her in the morning, when Joanna is still breaking her fast.”

Daenerys nodded. Joanna had always needed more time- for everything. Each and every milestone had been reached after Visenya, but still within the timescale Daenerys knew to be normal, so it was not alarming in any way.

“Daeron I can spend some time playing with the blocks- he seems to like them.”

“ He does. “

Jon was good to them- all of them. Even Elaena was treated with more than a share of love and care by Jon, something that served to thwart the frostiness in Daenerys heart when it came to her husband, who she now considered a dear friend, someone she could always count on.

The years passed. Aurane eventually raised to be Hand of the Queen and King- Jon´s idea- a position that explained his closeness to Daenerys in the heads of many of the Court. 

Only those who had come with her from Essos knew about their relationship, and those were not gossipy folk.

Daeron, everyone assumed, had favored her mother in terms of looks. As he grew older, however, people would whisper he had taken after his father, the King, when it came to temperament, and nobody, as far as the reports she received from the Master of Whispers, saw to question the boy´s paternity.

_ Good, _ Daenerys thought with herself,  _ good that nobody knows the truth...that nobody knows my husband is just a friend and that my friend is more than a husband to me. _

“ I am returning to The North.” Jon said after they had just celebrated the tenth nameday of the Crown Princess and the Lady of Winterfell. “ Arya has suggested the Harvest Feast would be a good opportunity to hear petitions.”

“Oh…” Daenerys had not expected Jon to leave so early. “ I was about to visit Asha…Aurane wants to inspect the ships we commissioned. “

“I can shorten my stay and return in a week´s time- would this be enough?”

Daenerys did not want to rain in Jon´s parade, so she would let him be.

“Yes, it would.”

Concessions, negotiations, compromises- the joys of co-parenting.

It was not what Daenerys wanted, but who said she would always get what she wanted?

Life was not a poney ride.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh...trolls are so trollish! There is a clear policy in place here for comments, but they are too stupid to even follow it!
> 
> so yes, cannot be civil, is clearly baiting, you will be deleted. dont even bother.


	11. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys, Jon and Aurane must face their destinies; the kids grow up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Today or tomorrow there is an Epilogue. Sorry for delay, but things got a bit chaotic.
> 
> Not entirely happy with it, but I decided to post it because this year has been...blergh...and as always, no beta, so typos and strange syntaxe can make appearances ( I might edit when I have time, sorry)

Late as it was, the Sun had not yet completely set when Jon arrived. Summers might be shorter in the North, but their days were longer, as if compensating for six months they would be spending under heavy snow.

It was good to be home, except Winterfell was not Jon´s home anymore- but would be his daughter´s.

As usual, Arya was the one to receive her brother at the courtyard, completely at ease with Jon´s winged companion. 

“There is no need for you to fly to Skagos- Rickon is not coming this year,” she announced as they hugged, her tone mostly neutral since it came as no surprise: Rickon never took to Winterfell, having visited only three times in the last ten years.

Resigned as Arya sounded, Jon still disliked the thought of his only sister not being completely happy and sought to make light of the situation: “At least he does write to us... and we can always fly- you know I don´t mind.”

Arya waved her hands. “ Oh, stop it! You are a busy man, Jon. `Is fine. Rickon is fine.  _ I am fine.  _ I just told you so you know this is your last stop- you do wear yourself thin with all your flying… but  __ I am glad you came, Jon. You did not have to, but it's a good thing you came because, you know,  _ she _ arrived last night.”

Jon sighed. Arya had never really warmed up to Val- and it was all his fault. _ As usual. _ Why he had to be so clueless when it came to the feelings of the people he loved was beyond him. Would it be easier to blame this incapacity solely on his magical dealings- he had returned twice, each time less than before- but it would be a lie.

Jon had always had problems with this aspect of his life, and it always came back to haunt him. As a matter of fact, Jon had actually been killed _because_ he had wrongly assumed people ought to be as stoic as he was- had he not asked a young boy to completely forget the disgusting way his family had been murdered by wildlings because it fitted his own political machinations?

Val and Arya had much in common, but they stood at opposite ends in Jon´s life. Arya. who had been raised by a couple united in their mutual devotion and love, could not fathom why Jon had taken the free woman to his bed after he had pleaded with her to accept his wife as family, even at the cost of her relationship with her siblings.

His own secret reasons aside, to Arya, the matter was simple: Jon had broken an oath andmade a mockery of everything the Starks stood up. She never said it out loud, but made her point across in many ways, eventually setting on completely ignoring Val and giving Jon many severe looks. 

By that point, a good half a year into their forced convenience, Arya wanted nothing more but to to have Val gone and the blond woman´s less than tactful comments on Gendry´s cousin, Shireen, whom she referred to as “ unclean” (“the taint only sleeps and it will come back”) did little to endear her to the acting lady of Winterfell.

Once Jon finally understood the situation was unbearable, his solution had been a subtle admission of guilt: by granting Queencrown to Aemond, Val´s nephew and the son of the last King Beyond the Wall, Jon had rewarded his paramour by formally granting her the status of nobility.

The move was politically savvy and nobody dared complain.The lands needed tending and Val was capable. The area, expansive and beaming with enough game to feed the remnants of the Free Folk that went with her to the New Gift, was bordering with Mountain Clans. An alliance was soon agreed upon, Aemond would be choosing from one of their daughters to marry and take his title as Master of Queenscrown when he was old enough.

For a time, this solution had worked. Arya rarely spoke about Val or the free woman´s relationship with her brother, choosing to concentrate on the business of ruling Winterfell and raising her own son while Jon, when his duties allowed, would make the half a day fight to Queen Crown and spend days indulging in his basic instincts.

But a few weeks here and there seemingly were no longer enough, as Val developed the habit of paying visits to Winterfell in the last couple of years. Jon would quickly arrange for her to stay at Wintertown as to avoid any discomfort, but he never censured the free woman for her impulsiveness, reasoning that Val was, after all, not his to command.

However, this clearly bothered Arya.

Jon would have to do something. 

“ I will speak to her…” 

***

Alas, it was Val who wanted to have words with Jon. “ I have not been drinking tea.”

_ Ah _ . “Since when?”

“Two years.”

This answered the question of Val´s visits- she was trying to get with child.

With Jon´s child. “Apologies Val- tis my fault.”

In the North, Jon was considered to be a very fair, very generous King and in this, in taking the whole blame, he was only being fair. While Val just admitted having deceived him, what Jon had done was far, far worse.

Truthfully, Jon had never considered Val to be a motherly type and now he was seeing the error in his judgment. She was about a year older than he was and, with two years of Aemond reaching adulthood, no wonder Val started to think about her own future as the opportunities to start her own family dwindled by the day.

Young enough to conceive, but not for long, Val had assumed Jon could gift her with this last present when, in fact, he could not.

“ I don´t understand…”

Val deserved an explanation and Jon would give her- but not the full one. Not because he did not care about her, but because he could not expose his family. 

He trusted Val implicitly, but this was the second time Jon was hurting her and he would not take any chances. 

“ I came back less than I was before. Only through Magic was I able to have children.”

Jon observed Val attentively, if not fondly, and saw her face became as pale as the moonlight, all but drained of blood.

Even distressed as she was, Val was a beautiful woman.

Jon had been a fool for mistreating her so. She had been a friend- no, more than a friend, if he was being honest. But not rough, not truly what he wanted- and this, too, had not been Val´s fault.

_ If only things were different. _

But there was still time to rectify his mistakes when it concerned Val. 

“ If a family is what you want, there is another way…”

“You mean magic?” Val nervously asked, her eyes locked on Jon´s like a bird of prey in the sky. “ Like the children you have with.. _.her _ ?”

Jon would never pity anyone as strong and as beautiful as Val, but, in that moment, he almost did. 

“No, not like this.. _.we can´t _ , Val. But I can find you a suitable match, a lord in need of a wife…”

Val remained still for a moment and offered no reply. Jon could not read her emotions very well, but felt the coldness between them. 

“ It never occurred to me you would want it, Val. “ Jon said in a slightly lower voice. “Had I known before I---”

This proved to be too much for Val to take. No, she would not allow him to speak to her as if she were an unreasonable child, in constant need of temperance and assurances.

Suddenly finding her voice, Val ´s resentment came to the surface: “What  _ do _ you know, Jon Snow? Tell me:  _ what do you know?  _ I am curious. I think you know  _ plenty. _ You keep quiet so that people can answer their questions by themselves - that is what you do. Why are you this way? Why, Jon? Do you even care? It seems you do not... either you care so little about me that you did not waste any time thinking, or you just assumed  _ you _ were the measure of all my wants and wills.”

“I never thought that, Val, although I do apologize.” 

Jon cared, he told himself. He cared about more than himself and his own flesh and blood- he cared about her

But this was not what she deserved or what she needed, Jon knew it. He came back twice, changed and incomplete. There was just so much he could give because it had been taken from him- memories are experiences and life can only move forward when you remember what came before.

Jon knew of things, he had seen things, but he had also lost much- too much mayhaps.

And there was nobody in the whole world who could understand him.

Not even himself, sometimes. 

“If I want a man, I can get one myself…” Val spat as she left the room, banging the door at her exit.

And Val just did that- find a man that was. The Flint was a large man in his forties, strong and capable with the blade. Jon approved of the choice and, discreetly, negotiated the contract with the man.

It was the least he could do, Jon reasoned, all things considered. Val too shared the same opinion. “ You have gold, being a King and all...our people will need it.”

She was proud, but not an idiot. Raised as to see any waste of resources as something akin to a sin, Val decided it would be stupid to waste time with a long betrothal if they could go forward and wed at the godswood.

“ No marriage by capture?” Jon asked when Val informed him of her decision.

“Twice did I keep with the traditions of my people and twice was I left wanting; one died on me, the other turned out to be a kneeler of the worst kind…”

Jon´s shame grew even greater- he had never considered what they had as a marriage. He knew because Tormund told him, that Ygritte had felt as much, mistaking her status as his prisoner for a proposition. With Val, it had been different. There was no fight, no pretense. It had been consensual and natural. One day they crossed paths and , at nightfall, she took Jon to a clearance…

But the fight, the need to draw blood and resist the abduction- was that only a requirement in the event of a man taking a woman? to Val, it seemed this way.

Regardless, the free folk ´s practices were their own- and Jon was not one of them.

***

Breathless, Daenerys moved forwards, her lips capturing Aurane´s in a messy, long kiss that left her so light headed she left her whole body fall on the mattress, prompting her lover to lose his own balance, crushing her.

It did not hurt; the mass of pillows absorbed the impact and she giggled. This was a good day to start the day, Daenerys mused. Since moving to King's Landing, for appearance's sake, Aurane had to move to the Hand´s Tower when he was promoted to the position with the retirement of Ser Barristan Selmy, whose wish, at that point, was to return to his home country, where he peacefully died as he had wished.

Daenerys had been pleased when Ser Barristan gave his approval at her suggestion of replacement, if not due to Aurane´s political gifts, definitely because he knew nobody would defend the Queen´s rights as fiercely as the bastard of Driftmark.

Aurane´s strong arms held Daenerys tight, his loving embrace soothing her. The day would be long- she did not want to leave so soon. “ The Small Council is about to meet- we should go.”

“Not before I kiss you properly- the whole of you.” Daenerys closed her eyes and left out a tiny sigh. Aurane´s expert tongue was doing wonderful things to her, messily licking, sucking and massaging her most tender flesh , she mellowing in delight.

It would be impossible to stop right now, Daenerys thought. Aurane´s generosity only meant that he too would want a piece of the cake and, after a first orgasm, she was all too thankful not to offer her lover the same courtesy. 

“ I want you…”

One thrust and he was fully inside, no need for any adjustments. She had been ready for this, he knew, and so was he. They had just started and she was panting already. From the top, Aurane looked at Daenerys with something more than lust, finding her obvious excitement at their coupling immensely pleasing.

She rocked her hips, pushing his face closer to hers, breathing ragged. Both knew they had to enjoy these little moments to their fullest- a couple more thrusts, and Aurane came with a grunt, arming her with his seed.

After cleaning some of the mess they made, Daenerys and Aurane made it to the Small Council meeting room. where they heard their advisor reports and slightly disagreed on what should be considered as their great priorities: the Hand worried about the growing complaints coming from Casterly Rock while the Queen was more concerned with the whispers coming from the East, where Volantis seemed intent at playing both sides by not pursuing the slavers ships a per their agreement.

Her position known, Daenerys excused herself to her study, leaving Aurane to attend to the minutiae of the Council. She still had her correspondence to go through before having lunch with her children, an hour of bonding time with the small ones was something she made her best not to miss.

_ Small? Not that small anymore.  _ Ten years was a long time, Daenerys mused. They were still children, but soon they would become legal adults.  _ Four more years and they will take their first steps in adulthood.  _

Daenerys had tried to push for a two years increase in the legal age but had to admit her defeat. This society was not only unprepared for, but could not really afford for the legal majority to be reached at eighteen years of age. In spite of all the advances she had championed, it was still- and would continue to be-a rural society, where most people died, one way or the other, before their fifties.

In some ways, it made sense. They had to raise their children to grow up fast and learn to mend for themselves as early as possible; to have insisted on a foreign and prolonged vision of childhood would have been counterproductive, so Daenerys simply made sure the Justice system took into consideration things like first offenses and youth when processing people between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, a grace period of sorts.

Arriving at her quarters, Daenerys greeted not only her daughters and son, but also her husband. 

“ I thought you would only come tomorrow?”

“It was too cold.” Jon answered Daenerys with a smile, his voice almost rendered inaudible by his children´s excitement at seeing him earlier than expected.

***

“Anything excting coming from the North? How is Arya doing these days?”

Daenerys poured Jon some warm spiced wine while she took a seat in front of him, the Sun setting behind them both. 

“ She worries about what lies ahead, thinks Joanna should spend more time at Winterfell not only to learn how to rule, but also to grow used to Ned.”

Daenerys made a face, arranged marriages were not her preferred topic of conversation. 

“ Joanna should spend time with her family while we can afford and, besides, it is not like she never set foot at Winterfell or the North- you even took her to Skagos!”

“Peace, Dany- I know what we agreed and I will not change my mind. I merely mentioned Arya´s opinion, she is , after all, mother of the young man our daughter will wed.”

Not wishing to be reminded of this particular wedding, Daenerys suggested they discuss the Small Council meeting she had attended. 

“ I am afraid Aurane is losing his patience with Lord Lannister, the last letters exchanged were not to his liking.”

Unsurprisingly considering the war had ended just a decade earlier, some wounds still festered among the Westerlander nobility. Since Lord Lannister owed his position to the restored Targaryen dynasty, he was more than used at putting up fires of discontent, but ever since Daenerys started pushing for her reforms to be enacted on all Kingdoms, he had become less impressed.

Jon doubted they would rebel, but the situation was worth investigating. 

“ They just paid the last installment of their debts to the Crown, yes?Mayhaps is as simple as not having the gold to pay for your plans, Dany.”

As long as their mines were not dry, the Lannisters would never be hard for cash.The last thing Daenerys had heard, they were making inquiries as to open their own Bank- maybe they had overreached and Braavos had made them hear  _ them _ roar? 

_ Should ask the ambassador about it _ . “It is a possibility, yes. But I don´t know. Aurane seems to think this discontentment could lead to something bigger and, while he makes good points, I cannot stop asking myself whether he is being...you know...a bit much.”

Jon arched an eyebrow, getting the hint of what Daenerys was saying. It exasperated her sometimes to realize the greatest sin anyone could commit in Aurane´s eyes was to consider His Queen to be any less than perfect. Resigned as he had been to a life of vice and greed, now that he had a much more dignified purpose, Aurane Waters's commitment to the one thing that had turned him into an almost good man was so intense as to almost suffocate the object of his affections.

“Anyway, enough with the business, Jon. Did you enjoy yourself? You seemed eager to go.”

Jon´s face did not change at the suggestion. He was seldom keen on social events as a whole, and the trip to his homeland had not been an exception.

But Daenerys was fond of more personal talks and was clearly interested in learning the latest gossip. Jon knew she kept a correspondence of a sort with Arya, so she would eventually learn all about it. “ I married Val off to a clan, a man she was fond of. She will be lady by rights, mayhaps even start a family…”

Daenerys creased her eyebrows- this bit of news had not been anticipated. “Oh.” she said in a sad tone. “ I am sorry to hear it, Jon...if you need, you know, to talk…”

And with this, she gave Jon a hug. He inhaled her sweet scent, closing his eyes as he returned the embrace.

It was good to be home.

***

They set sail the morning after Jon´s arrived, the smell of salt triggering in Daenerys all those childhood dreams she had long left behind.

A couple of days and they had crossed to the waters of Shipwrecker´s bay. A smooth sail, Daenerys might add- Aurane commanded those waves better than anyone she knew.

After formalities had been dispensed and supper served, Daenerys went to see Shireen in the Lady's private quarters, where the two of them watched little Orys peacefully sleeping in his cradle.

“You did a good job, cousin” Daenerys jokingly said, gently giving Shireen a pat.

The young woman´s body tensed for a second before she gave the Queen a shy smile. 

“ Four years we tried, our hopes all but lost...a good thing you sent for Lady Sarella, cousin.”

Daenerys nodded. Shireen´s case was so exceptional that nobody could have anticipated all the effects she would be experiencing after surviving greyscale. Only after years of failed attempts that the maesters started to wonder whether the disease had rendered the Lady of Storm's End infertile- her consort, despite being very attentive and sweet to her, proved to be his father's son in at least one aspect: fathering bastards.

“Grandmaester Ambrose has been in correspondence with scholar Sarella ever since. I´d wager The Citadel showed some interest in replicating the success, however, Ambrose also indicated it is not that easy.”

Daenerys had some suspicions on how exactly Orys had been conceived. Her talents as healer aside, Sarella Sand had been very close to Marwyn…

...but since it was nobody's business, this was as far as Daenerys was willing to go on the subject.

“I know very little about it myself.” said Shireen in a defensive tone.

Turning to her face to see the little one more time before leaving the nursery, Daenerys let a sight: “Oh, well, now he turned one it is that begins the  _ real  _ difficult part, Shireen- you will have your hands full for the next twenty years, I tell you!”

Shireen's face lit at the prospect. “ I pray to that, cousin.”

***

They made two more stops before arriving at Pyke, but kept away from Casterly Rock. Daenerys had only gone there twice herself and, although she had been well received, it was one of these places she would not return if she had any say in it. The place made her think of Tyrion, that well of possibilities that never quite materialized.

For better or for worse, he continued to live his life surrounded in wealth, playing the role Daenerys had created for him until he died three years ago. Maybe he had been happy to spend his exile in Braavos, enjoying the courtesans, the theater and the city´s intriguess- or maybe, just maybe, Tyrion Lannister died a bitter, sad man, far from his country and his lifelong dream of acceptance, both things Daenerys took away from him.

But, at this point of the story, who really cares about Tyrion?

Asha was in great spirits and the food was delicious. Daenerys had Aurane, in his capacity as Master of ships, establish many routes of commerce with different regions of the world. They had improved much of their fleet and expanded their reach. When a ship docked at Dragonstone and a sailor came to the castle carrying the proverbial bag of potatoes, Daenerys knew what had to be done.

No female version of Columbus would wreak havoc in the new lands- the men from the Lonely Light were well funded by the Queen, with very clear instructions on how to establish contact.

Five years into the Discoveries and Daenerys was able to eat a perfectly executed mashed potatoes with roasted garlic and salted cod.

The stay was a success, Daenerys feeling herself so at home that she grabbed the guitar, she had been toying with for the past weeks and executed an impromptu concert.

“ This” Daenerys announced as her nim fingers worked on the strings “ is a song called Heroes, written by a man I met once, Ser David.”

The audience seemed to appreciate her efforts, if not the execution. Aurane said later that she had, as always “ excelled”, but she pretty much doubted she had managed to pick Robert Fripp´s technique only by what her ears remembered.

“Tis work for later, I guess...when I have more time.”

Despite the initial ebullience by the end of the third day, Aurane was running out of patience with all the attention a couple of nobles were bestowing on Daenerys. The new blood injected on the Ironborn, those former Golden Company members with ties to the island Asha agreed to take on, were always greedy for royal favours.

Daenerys cut the trip short a couple of days. She knew Aurane was holding out. He was not the kind of man to pounce around to mark his territory, nor was he aggressive. Aurane was dangerous when he wanted to be, anyone could see that, but he preferred dancing according to the music than speaking the loudest.

And he disliked his weakness, the eternal insecurity a bastard felt in the social constellation of Westeros.

But there was something more, this time. 

“Why did _he_ come back so early?” Aurane had asked her at their cabin one night.

This made her uncomfortable.

_ Jon- is Aurane jealous of Jon?  _ “

***

It grated on Daenerys, Aurane knew it, but he was his own man and doing what he wanted, on occasion, was how he managed to keep his sanity and, at that time, what he wanted was to leave Pyke and their horde of eager young men.

He was not only jealous, but protective. One inebriated man taking liberties, and rumours could start...Aurane kept his end of the bargain to Jon the best way he could. Daenerys was a formidable woman, more than capable of defending herself not unlike any sailor's wife- but she was not his wife, was she?

His life would have been easier had Allyria survived, Aurane knew. Sweet, dutiful Allyria would not have minded his relationship with the Queen. She would have taken care of all the responsibilities Aurane could have delegated to her, provided him with children he could call his own and entertain him on occasion if he so wished.

But he had fallen in love- he of all people. A decade into their relationship and Aurane still did not know what to make of it. He was happy, he was rich, he loved her- and she loved him back- however, he missed his freedom...and now, there was Jon.

A bastard always knew the world was not his to take and Aurane had never forgotten his name was Waters, not Velaryon.

Jon too, was a bastard. But he was King, and he was very different from Aurane. He was better at things that Aurane had trouble with. A better father, Jon would have been a better husband to Daenerys if circumstances had been different.

And now, Jon was free. Available. Ready to take what was Aurane´s. As it was custom among the nobility, the discarded paramour, a woman Aurane knew Jon was not a half as fond as Daenerys had assumed, was found a good husband and provided with a good enough dowry as to make the previous association not matter much. Soon, the trips to Winterfell would no doubt dwindle since its Lady, Princess Joanna, was reaching adulthood. At ten years of age, she was about to begin her training, a prospect Daenerys did not look forward to, but would not be able to postpone for much long.

Aurane was not fooled by Jon´s apparent earnstess and stoicism. He had seen the man in battle and was aware of the strange magic the King possessed, even though he never openly discussed it. Years of observation and the bastard of Driftmark had reached a clear understanding of the bastard of Winterfell, a man rich of secrets and poor of words, as anyone would: Jon was playing a long game, buying his time to have it all.

Aurane could not blame the man. Had the positions been reversed, he would have done the same. Daeron had survived all childhood maladies to become a strong, healthy, talented lad. Save an unfortunate turn of events, the restoration and succession of House Targaryen was guaranteed.

Where Jon was concerned, Aurane´s services were no longer needed... just a matter of time until he would come and try to reclaim his wife.

Aurane would not allow it- not without a fight. He had given up too much already to even consider what life without her would mean. 

***

At Sunspear, Daenerys was warmly received by a visibly pregnant Missandei, who had just returned from a quick visit to her motherland.

“You must be wary of slavers on your way back, the southern waters are getting unsafe once again.”

Daenerys had long suspected her decision to commute the sentence of Lord Varys to exile had been an undeserving merciful act. Her intelligence network, from spies to diplomats, had been meeting with dead ends as of late, like someone with a deep understanding of how things work purposely leading them on.

Maybe she was being paranoid, unfair even. Varys had been a slave himself- but had he not been allied with a slaver of great power too? He had been abused and had abused people under him- all those children he cut the tongues out, his “ little birds”.

Lord Varys disappeared from her radar soon after Daenerys was crowned Queen. If he was dead as some reported, then she suspected he had time to be employed by her enemies in the East for how long it took to train his substitutes, because she trusted her ally, Braavos, implicitly in these matters.

Therefore, either someone with some inside knowledge of her campaign or a false friend from a former slaver paradise like Volantis had managed to build a large pro-slavery alliance behind her back the past year and was now making its move.

“Do not worry, Missandei, I will take a look into that. You should not be flying anymore, is it not only dangerous with slavers around, but you must be too far along for even being comfortable at this stage.”

Missandei smiled, cupping her round stomach. “ Trystan only agreed with my last trip because we were not yet aware of the last developments. Before your arrival, we briefly wondered why the Small Council had not sent any reports on the waters. Now we know you could not since you did not know .”

A dangerous thought, but a true one. 

How could they even prepare without even knowing about the threat looming over them?

Daenerys knew it was only a question of time. Better move soon, she thought with herself, before they amass any more support.

***

The night they set sail back to King's Landing, Aurane made sure to spend the whole night in Daenerys cabin, face deeply buried between her legs.

“You taste changed…” he said after a third round of oral pleasure. “ Now I am sure.”

Daenerys snorted. “Oh, I had not realized all this newfound generosity of yours was merely a scientific experiment.” seeing that Aurane had deemed his job done, she arranged herself comfortably in the narrow bed, sitting in the middle of a wall of pillows.” Is it so bad the taste? I mean, it could be a serious problem…”

She was starting to panic- the last thing she needed right now was developing some super strong vaginal fungus- when Aurane interrupted her with his own diagnosis. “ We have been fucking for the last six weeks with no greater interval than three days. Your periods take five days...and you have been helping yourself with second servings…”

She was no woman to hide from the truth. She knew what Aurane was saying was possible . 

_ P _ _ regnant, I am pregnant. _

This was certainly unexpected. Daenerys did not plan this- in fact, she planned quite the opposite. Both her successful pregnancies had not been without its problems, and Daeron´s birth left her emotionally scarred- she had no great wish to have a large family, and three natural children plus an adopted daughter was good enough for her.

She had made the decision and neither Jon nor Aurane had pressured ever since. Ambrose brewed her moon tea himself and she never failed to take the amount he deemed to be both safe and efficient, even though it tasted like crap. 

Save for unrestricted abstinence, there were no anti contraceptive methods that worked one hundred percent. Daenerys was, most probably, pregnant and she had no idea how far along. Going by Aurane´s observations, she was dared say she was in her third month already, but so far, she felt great. No morning sickness, no dizzy spells or lapses in memory.

_ Maybe _ , Daenerys thought with herself, _this last pregnancy will be an easy one…_

***

Daenerys arrived at King's Landing to find Lord Rykker, the Master of Coin, in charge of the Small Council, Jon having left for a surprise visit to Casterly Rock as Lord Rykker put it “ to ascertain the situation properly.”

This decision could not have been made at the worst time. 

“ The pro-slavery scum coalition moves to Tyrosh. If they succeed, their next step will be Volantis.”

“Our fleet is well prepared, Your Grace. If we sail now, we will have not only the advantage of numbers but also the element of surprise on our side. “

Aurane wanted to lead the attack; Daenerys reminded him Lady Asha had just accepted the position of Master of Ships and would need at least a week to arrive from Pyke. 

“...and you should remember, Your Grace, that since Lord Redwynne died a month ago, I have been filling his position as Master of Ships, with your approval.”

_ Indeed, _ thought Daenerys,  _ how could I have known my decision to formalize the invitation to Asha with a trip to Pyke would come and bite me in the butt?  _

_ “ _ I meant no criticism of your capability as an Admiral, my Lord Hand, we all know of your talents. If we must move now, as you seem to be in agreement with, then I too must prepare for the trip.”

Any war general knew the pathway to victory lied with making full use of any advantages at hand- and, in this world, there was no greater advantage to have on the battlefield than of the kind their dragons provided.

“Absolutely not, Your Grace- not in your state.”

Grandmaster Ambrose had just moments before confirmed to Daenerys she was, in fact, pregnant. Caution aside, she was in perfect health and the healer noted the pregnancy seemed to be at a more advantaged stage than she had expected, him noting her last recorded period had been no more than a day of bleeding with some spotting afterwards, which meant that it was, actually, not moonblood, but the opposite.

Obviously, since Daenerys was Queen, her being with child was not a private matter, but one of State. It would have been discussed at the Small Council once Jon arrived, for she felt it was the absolute minimum to inform him of the news first, but this impending war had rendered this common courtesy impractical.

“Your Grace, “ Ambrose said quietly. “ any trip longer than half a day would be done against my council- I agree with the Lord Hand.”

Daenerys placed her left hand on her forehead, breathing in all the air she could.  _ “ I know.”  _ she said, recognizing a defeat.

She did not hold with hypocrisy after all- had she not forbidden Missandei of flying not even a week ago?

_But at least Trystane had agreed on a last trip._

“We are on a good standing.” Aurane announced, the page leaving the room to retrieve some maps. “ All we need now is a new strategy that completely relies on our ships.”

***

The argument started as soon as they found each other´s alone and as soon as Aurane opened his mouth, Daenerys knew all the things that he had bottled up all these years would emerge at once if she allowed her irritation to show.

She was, after all, slightly offended that Aurane did not believe she could still do this final mission before entering mother´s leave, as Missandei had been allowed.

Her suggestion of Jon flying to join the attack at a later stage was rebuffed: 

“ The strategy is fine as it is. The Armada has no need for aerial support- we fought wars and won wars this way before, you know this well.”

Daenerys held her breath and bite her tongue so as to not say what was on her mind, that any man would be a fool to give up such an advantage. 

Instead, Daenerys tried to look from his point of view- she had also felt unsupported by Aurane when he basically called her unfit to fly earlier, maybe he was experiencing the same feeling now that she pushed for Jon to lead? 

“I am only trying to help, Aurane. I do not want to lose you.”

“You are not losing me, Daenerys. We have been at war with these buggers one way or another for the past decade. We should have prepared better, I admit it, but it is not like I lack experience.”

Daenerys did not reply- she knew Aurae was far from done. She observed as he opened the drawer on his desk, hesitating in retrieving his pipe, forehead creased as he struggled to make the simplest decision.

***

Aurane did not want Jon to be anywhere near him in battle. He could not say it out loud- could he?- but he did not trust his rival. 

Jon was an incredibly smart man, one not to waste such an opportunity:

The clean and heroic death of his wife's paramour, opening the path for him.

Aurane looked at Daenerys , her hand resting at her stomach. He could see the slight bulge now and the small smile that formed on his lips was soon dropped, his thoughts turning a more sinister turn.

_ By the Seven, I even left him with a parting gift, haven´t i?  _

“Trust me, Daenerys. Let me go alone.”

“I trust you, Aurane. I always have and I always will. But this is not about trust...this child I carry- I do not want to grow without a ---”

Daenerys did not get to finish the sentence:

“An uncle?” Aurane asked in jest. “ Remember : you expect a Prince or a Princess, my dear, not a bastard out of a bastards seed.”

“I am sorry, my love…” and she truly was. Aurane´s venom could have been felt in each syllable he uttered. She hated that he turned to sarcasm to hide his insecurities, especially when he had accepted this was the price for them staying together.

She realized she was tired. 

Every decision she made, every step she took, she had to remember their sacrifices and put their egos and desires first.

Trapped- she was trapped. The men in her life would follow her to the end of the world, but both required the ultimate price : her everything.

One gave up his freedom to be with her and in turn, demanded her full devotion while the other allowed her the luxury of ruling the Realm as she saw fit with his full support as long as She transferred to him the authority of her own emotions, even choosing her bed partner.

And Daenerys knew it would never be enough. 

She had hugged Jon as a friend, but felt his response. She was not stupid, nor blinded by her hurt. In the past years, she had often wondered if Jon was really being sincere when he said his only intention was protecting his family.

Try as she might, Daenerys could not deny the possibility that Jon was interested in more than friendship.

She did not know and honestly, did not care if Jon´s feelings had simply changed in the past decade or whether he had always had them. It did not matter because actions speak louder than words in Daenerys book and, by all states and purposes, Jon Snow dumped her ass a long time ago and went back to do what he had been doing before she met her…

Whatever happened, it was affecting Aurane in a negative way and troubling her personally. Daenerys never considered Jon to be a selfish man, but, if indeed he had decided it was time to dump his mistress and return to his wife and pick up where they had left off, then it was time for her to reconsider her favorable opinion.

“I promise you, Aurane, I am not sending Jon to help if the situation remains, as you believe, under control for the duration of the conflict.”

***

Reasonable as her words were, a personal vow to respect his position with a clear political condition in place, Aurane still felt it was not enough.

“I do not want you sending him at all, Daenerys. Even if I am losing the battle and all your ships are burnt, do not send Jon. If the situation is that bad, then one dragon might be at risk.”

An extreme scenario, dramatic even, but even the smallest of possibilities should be invoked if it meant for Aurane not to have any “ help.”

Apparently, Daenerys bought into it. “ I don't think it will ever come to that, Aurane, but I also must admit we are entering this war with a leave of intel I am not satisfied in the least. “ Memories of that dumb tv show emerged- oh my, two dragons were killed and both times, by incredibly stupid means- and the ned of her foreknowledge were hard to ignore. " We might need to change plans along the way."

Who was to say the slavers had not developed some super-secret anti-dragon weapon?

Ten years is a long, long time, Daenerys silently concluded.

***

“Do you have everything you need, Aurane? Sure you are not forgetting anything?”

A Queen she might be, but she always found in her heart to worry about the small things : a missed dinner, a letter left unanswered, him forgetting having forgotten his compass once…

Aurane knew it was Daenerys away from keeping bad thoughts at bay, an effort at distracting herself from her fears. 

He moved closer to her and stretched his arm, urging her to stop fussing:

“ Come here,will you?”

She turned her head to face him, closing the drawer behind her, and smiled. 

“Yes.”

He pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. “ I must apologize, my love.”

“Normal for couples to fight sometimes.” Daenerys replied, sounding not at all convinced. “ Although I do not like it.”

Neither did he. 

“ It must be my nerves...I know there is sadness in every parting, and that we parted many times before…”

“It has its bright side too. “ Aurane added with a jovial smile. “ The more sadness in parting, the more joy in reunion.”

Then the knocking on the door came as the bells tolled.

“It is time.” she said lamely. _ The ships are ready to set sail, they wait for their Captain _ .

“Don´t be so somber, my love...you are more than I deserve. I will come back to you.”

The kiss was long, hard, sweet and savory, and it lasted for a lifetime, but when Dany opened her eyes, Aurane had already been gone.

  
  


***

“I thought you would remain in the Capital during my absence.”

The tone was dry, but not hostile. Jon sensed her exasperation, her confusion even before she finally asked: “ Why did you leave, Jon? _ Why? _ ”

“It would have not been a surprise visit if it would have been planned, Daenerys.” Recognizing his wife deserved more than his attempt at humor, Jon added. “I spoke, they listened and understood they are not to give you any more grief...will fly there more often, see if they keep their mouths shut.”

The news did not seem to have impressed her, but she made sure to compliment her husband on the job well done. “ Thank you, Jon- I did not want to sound ungrateful, is just that…”

She was pregnant and alone; the father of her child had already left, to fight a battle Jon knew would eventually end Aurane´s life. 

“I would have waited for your return to discuss it with our Council, but…”

_ The war came and Aurane was eager to go. _ “I understand, Daenerys.” 

“I can show you the plans, the strategy...I want to know what you think, what we could have done better…” She closed her eyes, her left hand covering her forehead. “ He should not have gone without a dragon at his back.”

Jon had not lingered in the future. He knew of the battle- and of the result.

A sentence, only a sentence. No mention of dragons, of him being there…

Daenerys felt in her heart it was wrong, to have sent Aurane alone, but alone he had died. 

It was written- the ink was dry. It was what was supposed to happen.

They would be happy.  _ Without him. _

_ This Is not my fault. I have done nothing to cause this. The slavers attacked not on my command...Aurane chose to go not on my word. _

And yet…

_ Why do I feel responsible? Why? Aurane...he is nothing to me. I killed my brother- or what was left of him. I came back, twice. I survived while family and friends perished- why do I care about Aurane? _

But Jon did care. If not for Aurane, for Daenerys.

_ She does not deserve that...she loves him. Not me. She loves him.  _

Before he would change his mind, Jon grabbed Daenerys chin and raised her head to face him. “ Do you want me to go? Do you think it will help if I fly to the war zone and provide aerial support?”

“He made me promise I would not send you...he believes in his plans...but I also said they need to change if the reports were not promising…”

“A raven cannot travel as fast as a dragon.” Naval battles could be decided in a matter of hours with any minute counting. “ By the time we receive any news, it can be too late.”

“ I know!” she cried in desperation. “ But what can be done? It is dangerous for me to go...and for you too. I have been in many battles myself---I know the risks. I cannot ask this of you, Jon. It is unfair.”

But Jon had already decided. “No, it is not.”  _ If I go and die, but save him, it will be worth it. I lived enough. I have a family. I cannot sit on a throne made of blood and muder.  _ “ You are Queen, but I am King. I do not need your authorization to go to war. Aurane cannot complain or say I broke any promise because I did not make any…”

***

It had been a trap. 

Instead of defending a port, they found themselves flanked by enemies they did not even know they had, the slavers hungering for their so-called vengeance as if their cause was a sacred one.

And then, when Aurane had already resigned himself to die for the woman he loved- the kind of heroic act nobody would expect of him- he had been rescued.

Jon had saved them from a humiliating defeat. Yes, the Eastern Forces had fooled themselves thinking they could kill a dragon, only to be burned to a crisp, Rhaegal appearing and disappearing as if he were a ghost, turning the slaver´s dreams of glory to dust.

The King was accepting the slaver's surrender while Aurane remained in his cabin, recovering from his wounds and dehydration. He suspected the thick cloud of ashes and the burning smoke had damaged his lungs, but the fever had subdued, he had not lost any limbs and the scars that would remain would fade with time.

Having survived such an ordeal gave him even more reason to live and soon, Aurane was standing up and joining his men for a game of cards.

They were to sail the next day, he decided. Jon agreed; he would be flying at their rear, a last line of defense so to speak.

But Lys was still beautiful and Aurane was fond of beautiful things. He suggested going to the market, to buy trinkets for the children, perhaps even some fabric for new clothes?

He was happy. The Sun shone bright, former slaves bowed to them everywhere they went and he was coming back to the arms of his beloved, he had lived to see his children grow and his boy to take the throne…

He let his guard down...and so did Jon

Aurane did not think. He saw the danger and made a choice. They were already at the docks, about to embark on the ship, when someone uttered the words  _ I am so sorry. _

***

Jon would have wanted to burn the whole island to learn who had commissioned a sorrowful men to assassinate him, but Aurane insisted this could wait. “ I just want to go home.”

“Why did you do it, Aurane? Why did you save me?”

The time for half truths and meaningful silences had come to an end. Aurane was dying and nobody was more surprised- horrified, really- than Jon, who had known this day would come for years and years.

“You are a dragonrider; I am not. It would take years for Daeron to...”

Yes, Jon understood, but it did not make it easier to accept it.

So much for being a rogue, a man with loose morals and an elastic sense of honour, Jon thought. When it mattered, Aurane had sacrificed himself to provide his family with more means of defense against their horde of enemies. 

By pushing Jon out of the way, poisoned dart had hit him instead breaking through Aurane´s leathers and long sleeves, the poison so insidious that not even amputation would save him, at least not when his body had been weakened by his previously received battle wounds…

“Just do me a favour, will you?Tell them...tell  _ her  _ I died fighting...say that my wounds were too severe...I do not want to go down like a fucking kingsguard, Jon…I want her to remember me like I was- the Captain of a ship, a Lord of Tides.”

Jon would have laughed at the irony, but he could barely hold a tear. Would Aurane had survived the attack had he not come? Nobody could say; if so, he would be taken as hostage. Mayhaps...who knows, but Aurabe could have been rescued...or even escaped with the assistance of some former slave…

But by choosing to go, by deciding to save Aurane´s life, Jon had, in the end, doomed the man.

***

She cried every day. It came in bouts; she would work for a couple of hours and then, in the middle of a discussion with an advisor or signing a document, Daenerys would excuse herself and run to her private chambers.

Irri would prepare her a scalding bath and listen to her sobs while Jhiqui stayed by the door, to make sure the children, who had access to their mother at all time, would not see Daenerys in such a state.

But anybody could see the sadness. For the remainder of her pregnancy, Daenerys adhered to a strict routine that accounted for her most urgent responsibilities, but nothing else in terms of distractions. She stopped playing, refused all invitations and only appeared at the Great Hall once a week to prevent rumours about her health to spread.

She forced herself to eat, but the food had lost its taste. She broke her fast with her children and put them to bed every day, but had to remind herself to smile and to take part in their conversations and fantasies.

Daenerys felt lonely, but she knew she was not alone. Her friends and family remained by her side, Jon above all. He mourned with her and his feelings were genuine. She would not go as far as to call them friends, but there had been respect and camaraderie, not to mention the strong bond of being brothers of arms.

The battle had been brutal, Jon said. Daenerys knew the numbers, knew they had lost so much of their fleet, so many sailors had perished...Aurane was far from the only one to die, she told herself over and over again, and yet…

The months passed, her son was born- an easy labor- and she felt well enough to resume some of her responsibilities. Jon had shouldered too much, she felt, and guilty was eating up at her- she knew he was suffering too, his few hours of sleep were troubled and uneasy according to his male servant, who had been worried.

Before she knew it, she was having the conversation with her daughters, the three of them had flowered almost at the same time, around twelve years of age. This went to show her that life continued...one day, it would go on without her, as it was going without him…

_ I pray that I do not come back...I need to dream, to rest and to be at peace....when my time comes, I want to go. _

In her dreams, sometimes, she could still see him- and this should be enough because her children needed her.

***

Jon had insisted they name him Aurane. The boy took after Daenerys in appearance, but was a spitfire of a lad, never stopping more than two seconds.

At Dragonstone, Daenerys watched, with a faint smile, as Jon taught Aurane how to swim in the cold waters of the bay

. He would soon turn four, her little sailor. He was an active child, bright and fun loving. Aurane worshiped his older sisters and brother, always following them around, demanding to take part of their life as if teeangers had enough patience to deal with small children for more than five minutes, was fascinated by the dragons and always prone to mischief, the kind of child that could not be left alone and be trusted.

Aurane loved his parents. Daenerys was sweet and protective; Jon was kind and attentive. 

And by watching them together, now busily building a sand castle, Daenerys realized she no longer saw Jon as merely a friend.

He had given her time, had never crossed the line she had drawn. He had been incredibly supportive and constantly placed her needs above everyone´s else. He no longer spent half his time in the North and his trips were short, a mere couple of days. He always returned to her, a hug and a smile, and they took to spending even more time as a family in the evenings, playing board games with their children.

At some point, they started to get closer, even physically. Jon was always finding excuses to touch her hands, to hug her and the way he looked at her sometimes it made her blush.

So, that afternoon, she went to his bedchamber. They did not talk, they did not pretend- they just kissed and let their bodies do their rest.

***

“I don´t understand why Joana has to wed first...Ned is not even that much older than Daeron.”

Four and ten, and it was getting very hard for Daenerys first born to handle her hormones. From the three girls, Visenya was the one more obviously interested in what happened between married couples behind closed doors.

Elaena, who had been raised in the Queen's household as one of their own, was very placid and obedient. Daenerys suspected she had inherited a great deal from her late mother, as Lady Alyria was rumoured to be the same.

Joana, on the other hand, was anything but well behaved. A good thing that Jon insisted in ehr inheriting Winterfell, because her temperament was more appropriate to Bear Island than the Red Keep...there, Daenerys thought, in the open wilderness of the North, her daughter would find the freedom to be who she was without much scrutiny.

“This might be, but Daeron is in the middle of his training at arms and you know he can only wed when he is knighted.” Not very interested in this Targaryen tradition, especially when she knew neither Daeron nor Visenya were attracted to each other this way, Daenerys simply repeated what her advisors had told her- it was quite a comfortable explanation, actually, based on the customs and traditions of nobility.

“I know, but…”

“ No buts, young lady! Now, have you seen Joanna? Is she still upset?”

***

Jon had just finished having tea with Arya, who had traveled all the way south to attend the betrothal of her son to his daughter. This was of note because his sister disliked the Red Keep. he had visited his family three times at Dragonstone, but not once since they moved to the Capital.

Jon could not blame her. He had considered moving the betrothal to Winterfell, but Daenerys had objected, reminding him Joana would already marry and spend the rest of her life in the North and such a drastic change in life deserved a rite of passage of sorts. 

“ This is the last day she will live as a Princess of the Iron Throne, it is only fair she get to say goodbye to her girlhood.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Arya informed him she had decided to accept Lord Dayne´s proposal. Jon knew his sister had met Eddard Dayne during her time as a runway, and he seemed like a good man. His wife had died a couple of years before and he had a heir, a spare and a daughter to marry off- he obviously wanted Arya for more than her womb and title, and this was as good as he could possibly hope.

Before he could even notice, Jon´s feet took him to a study, where a book rested on a desk. He knew the day had come, and did what he had done before. He silently sat on a chair, opened on the page he himself had dedicated to a maester, and that he knew now by heart:

“Lord Aurane Waters, Master of Ships, a hero to millions of former slaves, did personally liberate hundreds of …

“ Beloved, “ Daenerys said with a gentle smile. “You must come. You are the only one who can calm Joanna down.”

***

Jon found his daughter already dressed in her finery, sitting by herself at the balcony.

He pulled himself to a chair and gently patted her hand: “Your mother said you needed to talk?”

“ I am only nervous, that is all...you know I dislike big events.”

“Well, Winterfell sees fewer feasts and parties than any other castle in the Realm…” small consolation, of course, but a start. “ Is there something bothering you, Joanna? Did Ned displease you?”

“Oh no, Ned did not do anything to .” 

Jon breathed in relief; Arya´s son reminded her of Robb at his age, the good and the bad.

“The only thing that...well... _ displeases _ me is that he is...a man?”

“How so? What do you…”  _ Oh _ . 

Well, things made sense now, why Joanna was never caught playing around with any of Daeron´s friends- even quiet and reserved Elaena had been surprised by kissing Lord Gargalen´s son at the gardens at least once.

“Are you mad at me, Father? Mother said we cannot control these things and that is normal…”

Was Jon mad at Joanna ? No, not at all. But it would make things difficult for her- and this was what saddened him. 

“No, Joanna, I am not mad at you.” 

How could Jon be mad? The lengths he had gone to protect her, Joanna, his daughter, it had all been worth it.

He had a family, a woman he loved and who loved him back, why would Jon be mad?

***

They had made love that night while the nobles still celebrated the betrothal of their beloved daughter.

Jon had been very wild, almost forceful. Daenerys met him all the way and they were now both panting from their exertions, ready to fall asleep.

But something bothered her. It had been bothering her a lot lately, ever since she found out she truly loved him.

It was time, she decided. “ Jon, I need to confess something to you.”

***

She told him everything she deemed essential- not about the fake Sansa who died because she decided to play dumb games she had seen on a dumb tv show, or about the books that would most probably be left unfinished...no, she told him of her future life, of the things she had seen there, of the knowledge she brought by the years she had lived in that world, in that reality…

She told him about her plans…” we must educate them...one day, they will be able to choose. There can still be Kings and Queens if they want- there is something called constitutional monarchy- but it is of utmost importance that these reforms be made, because it will mean less bloodshed, less wars, more progress and peace.”

Daenerys could see in his eyes Jon did not believe her. “ I see.” 

It hurt her, but she decided to let it go. She had said her piece. She had opened herself entirely to him.

The next day, Daenerys was startled to find out Jon was already telling the Small Council to fully support the Queen´s initiative of education reform.

When she asked him about it, he simply said. “ It is something you want to do, and is a good idea.”

Daenerys kissed her husband fully. _“ Thank you._ ” 

“Just...promise me you will not share your  _ secret _ with anyone.”

She nodded. She understood Jon. He was made of something different than Aurane and could not have reacted in any other way. Where Aurane had simply accepted her tale as true because she had said it was, and to Aurane, Daenereys was someone so out of ordinary that somehow, it made sense to him she was out of the world entirely, to Jon, Dany was, above all, a dreamer.

Where others would call her mad for believing she had died, visited not the future of this world, but a completely new reality, Jon chose to believe his wife was a bit eccentric- not that kind of mad to burn a city to the ground, but that benign craziness all people ahead of their time, like Septon Barth and Marwyn, had.

Daenerys marveled- how lucky she was, to love and have loved two extraordinary men. One, who believed in her, and the other, who did not but supported her and loved her all the same.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, some people think you always love one more. I think, this can be true to many people, but I do know a lot who, like me, believe it is possible to love equally, but differently. Two people can be very important to the person you become and is possible to have that and not be able to say, exactly, who "won", because love is not a competition IMO. 
> 
> But of course, everyone is different and there are some who can only say they have one big love their whole lives; others, never experienced it...and others, can say they had it more than once.
> 
> Thank you for sticking around. Epilogue comes next-perhaps today!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from butthurt, tag nazis, fake jonerys lovers that are demeaning, use low language, are insulting or open the door for harassment will be deleted.


End file.
